Art School Confidential
by farkle
Summary: Bella finds her artistic muse and total embarrassment in person of life model Edward. How can she get him to model for her when he thinks she is a sex-crazed flake? AU-AH, M for nudity, language, lemons. Canon pairings.
1. 1 Michelangelo

**Art School Confidential. Bella finds her artistic muse and total embarrassment in life model Edward. How can she get him to model for her when he thinks she is a sex-crazed flake? AU-AH, M for nudity, language, lemons. Canon pairings.**

**A/N: Welcome and thank you for trying out my new story. Writers are often told to write what they know. All I really know are art school and Los Angeles. Many of the events in the story are based on events that actually happened to me or to people I know, though I have put them together in a way that is uniquely mine. This story is a little different for me, a little funnier, a little lighter, more true. This story will be told entirely in Bella's point of view. **

**All things which relate to Twilight are not mine. The title, **_**Art School Confidential **_**comes from the Daniel Clowes comic by the same name. The plot and events related are mine. I lived them, I keep them.**

Chapter 1 Michelangelo

BPOV

Tuesday afternoon advanced painting class was nearly ready to begin. I was early so I could get my favorite spot, just to the left of the model's stand in the back half of the room. This week was to be our first long pose – two class periods with one model in the same pose. Professor Berty had already set up the ancient and saggy velour chaise with a long white sheet and two heaters nearby, so necessary for the cool Los Angeles February. I set up my newly gessoed board on the easel and dumped my paint tubes on the little metal cart I had borrowed from the class next door.

Jessica came in and stood glaring at me for a minute, her shiny black art box in one hand and her new canvas in the other. I ignored her and after a last huff, she trudged to an easel slightly farther to my left. I smirked to myself. I had shown up early to get a prime location. To hell with Jessica and her little attitude. I got stuck in a dark corner last week when I was running late. I wouldn't make that mistake again.

I squeezed out the paints I expected to use – Alizarin, Cobalt, Pthalo, Cadmium, Zinc White, and Bone Black. I put out only a tiny bit of white. Prof Berty despised paintings with too much white, preferring we painted our lights as colors. I set out my four favorite brushes and fetched two cans of water. I was using acrylics, like most of my classmates. I liked oils just fine, but acrylics dried quickly and were less likely to be messed up in the student racks by some random beginner asshat. I had two oils ruined that way before critique last year.

I was set up to my satisfaction and still had five minutes to kill before the class started. I grabbed my cigs and trotted down the stairs to the lounge.

"The Lounge" is what the studio art students called the little gravel corner of the garden, just out of sight of the painting building's side doors. I found Jasper Whitlock out there, smoking an unfiltered Camel. This was lucky. I wouldn't have to track him down later.

"Those things will kill you," I told him, sticking my clove between my lips. He flicked open his Zippo and grinned at me as he lit my cigarette. I took a long drag and watched the ash glow.

"You should know," he said.

"Hey, Jasper, what are you doing Saturday night?"

"Nothing much. Is there an opening?" Gallery openings meant free wine and cheese, things no self-respecting starving art student would ever pass up. I could understand why he would ask.

"No, Alice is having a party. Want to come?"

My roommate Alice was in the fashion design department, a tiny ball of energy with spiked black hair and high-heeled designer shoes. She threw great themed parties. Since I'd moved in with her six months earlier I helped with the parties by staying out of her way and cleaning up after.

Alice had asked me over the weekend if I would make sure to invite Jasper to the party. She was trying to act cool, but I knew she was hot for him. Jasper was sweet and cute and all the usual guy-hotness but I had a hard time picturing prim little Alice in her heeled Mary Janes dating Jasper in his scorched motorcycle boots.

"I wouldn't miss it, Bella. Same place?" Jasper had a sly smile. I wondered if he knew she had a crush on him. He'd been to her Orphans Thanksgiving Dinner last year, and I thought surely they had made a connection but nothing seemed to have come of it.

"Yah, you know the deal." Meaning, bring booze or snacks. "Eight o clock," I informed him, which is art-speak for a fashionable nine.

Jasper examined a scuff on his boot thoughtfully. "Is this a Valentine's Party?"

"Not exactly. It's Alice's annual Un-Lover's Valentine's Day Party," I snorted. Jasper laughed. "Yeah, I know. It makes sense in her crazy pixie brain."

"So are couples allowed?"

"Yeah, why? Are you dating someone?" I tried not to be alarmed. Alice would be impossible if Jasper showed up with a date.

"No, but Emmett is, and I thought I'd bring him, if you all don't mind."

I relaxed. "No, I don't mind. I'm sure Alice would like the opportunity to vet the Em's new squeeze." It would give me an opportunity to see the new girl too. Jasper nodded and stubbed out his cig.

"See ya Saturday, Bella." He waved to me as he headed back into the building.

I waved back, finished my smoke and went back to the painting studio. The model had arrived and was standing by the podium in the departments old blue robe. Prof Berty was twittering about, gesturing to the model as to how he wanted the pose to go. All I could see of our model as I walked past was that he was male, tall, and had a shock of bronze-colored hair. He was fiddling nervously with the tie on the robe and shifting his weight from foot to foot. I wondered idly if he was new to modeling.

I settled onto my stool and waited, amusing myself with ignoring Jessica and making faces back and forth across the room with Seth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the model slowly disrobe and settle on the chaise. Prof Berty cleared his throat and began talking in his squeaky voice.

"As you all know, today we have a new model. Edward is here for a long pose: today and Thursday we'll be working on the one pose. Show our model respect and remember -- no complaining for movement. We'll paint until 2:15 and take a short break, and then continue until 4. Okay? Okay? Okay, phones off and get to work all." Berty meandered off and turned on the stereo. The soothing sounds of Debussy filled the air.

I angled my easel a little further to the right, peeked around the edge and just stopped cold.

I'm used to painting from nude models. You don't get through two and a half years of art school as a painting major without seeing a fuck-load of naked people. You get used to it. After a while you think of everyone as being naked under everything, which I suppose is the point, but what most non-art people don't realize is that art models are not beautiful, mostly. You get used to the fat, the hairy, the old, and the ugly. And fucking-straight you get to like them. As long as they don't fucking bat an eye or shift a pinkie you don't care. They can look like Jabba the Hutt and no one would give a crap. Move a muscle and the art students will be after your ass like a mafia hit squad. I saw one class nearly mutiny when a new model came back from her break and put the wrong arm over the back of the chair. Come to think of it, I may have led that mutiny.

This was a different problem. The model could have been doing a cha-cha and I wouldn't have complained. He was beautiful. Lounging on the chaise, one arm thrown gracefully back, the other laying languidly across his hip with his hand resting lightly on his thigh, he seemed more sculpture than flesh and blood. His lean hips were angled towards me.

Every bit of him looked perfectly chiseled, from his angular face to his sculpted torso and long muscular limbs. His face alone was reason to pause. Even with a vacant expression, staring off into space, he looked intense. His vivid green eyes looked off to my left, over my head. His bone structure looked perfect, all hard angles and planes, with dark heavy brows and sensuous lips.

And his body! His gorgeous body had not a trace of fat or marks. In the diffused studio light, his skin was pale and cool-looking as marble. His chest was muscular, but sleek rather than bulked up, with only a faint curl of dark hair between his nipples, leading down like an arrow past his navel to his groin. Even his penis, lying long and flaccid across his thigh, looked like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo, that well-known lover of men. It was an amazing sight actually, since in the chill of the art studio under the scrutiny of twenty pairs of student's eyes, most models parts shrank to the size of a mini marshmallow. Not this guy. If that was shrunken, well, _damn_.

I got a little ochre on my brush and quickly sketched out his form on my canvas in quick strokes, capturing the easy gesture. I looked back at him and quailed in the presence of so much prettiness. There was no way I could capture that perfection. I started painting the negative space, deep mossy green with the sheet over the chaise a cool gray. It wasn't helping. All I had was a lovely man-shaped hole in my canvas and a dull throb between my thighs.

I tore my eyes off the man on the chaise and glanced around to see how others were faring. I noticed that others were having trouble too. Seth was trying to paint without actually looking at the model, just glancing up furtively from time to time. Jessica, on the other hand, wasn't even pretending to paint. She was just sitting with her mouth open, her paintbrush raised. I turned around on my seat and saw a repeat of those two almost everywhere I looked. Only a few students seemed to be actively painting, Lauren among them. She was measuring for all she was worth. By now she could probably tell you if the model's penis was as long as one of his graceful feet.

I sighed and turned back to my own canvas. Berty came and looked over my shoulder.

"Nice start, Swan," he said, holding out his thumb from my painting to the model and then back. "The way this is going, you'll have a nice painting of the background. Are you planning on painting our Edward in there sometime or just leaving it blank?"

I heard a snicker behind me and shot a nasty look over my shoulder at Lauren. I hoped I wasn't blushing but I was sure I must be. I blush so easily. Berty was talking again.

"See, it's simple, Swan," he said, in a voice that was low but surely carried to the whole class over the Debussy. "Use the position of the nipples and the groin to make a triangle, the front plane of the torso …" and then Berty walked over to the model, and, taking a pen from his shirt pocket he pointed to the stunning Edward's nipples and then to the root of his massive penis. I felt the heat growing from my neck to my hairline. I nearly fell off my stool in shock. I'd seen Berty gesture to models' parts before, but did he always get so close to a nipple? Or a cock? If the pen's cap were off, it might have left a mark.

The heavenly Edward, on the other hand, didn't move. His eyes flicked down to the pen, up to me for an instant, then away. That one instant when his beautiful green eyes locked with mine made my heart stutter. Although his expression didn't change – not a tensed muscle, not a smile, nothing – that look was filled with an intensity and emotion I couldn't name. Perhaps anger or embarrassment?

I shifted on my stool to hide as much of myself from the model as possible and dropped my head so my long hair fell like a curtain around my face. Berty was still gesturing to Edward's body with his pen. I nodded vigorously that I did indeed see what he was talking about. Gah.

Berty went off and tortured Jessica while I stared at my painting and tried to put a few marks in pleasing locations but it wasn't working. With a last glance at Edward I rummaged around in my hand-me-down tackle box filled with paint tubes until I found the big tube of Ivory Black. Good thing I was using acrylics. The paint that I'd already laid down was dry, so it wouldn't bleed.

I squeezed black paint directly from the tube onto the canvas, and used my largest brush to spread it around. When the canvas was entirely coated I used Alizarin Crimson with a touch of green for depth and began to paint, wet into wet. I pushed back the stool and stood at the easel. Using my whole arm to propel the brush across the canvas, I made broad strokes to give me that gesture. Nipple to nipple to groin and back to nipple, hip to shoulder, armpit to ass, hand in relation to head. The black began to dry and I stepped back. It was a start. With a mix of alizarin and yellow I painted the warm upper surfaces of the lovely Edward's skin, gleaming like pearl under the lamps Berty had set up. I worked white into it, with yellows and a faint touch of pthalo green.

I worked with only glances at the model from time to time. Honestly, I wasn't painting him at this point; I was painting what I felt like looking at him. All the confusion, lust, and most of all -- awe -- came through. The marks were loose and broad, but hugged the tender curves of his hip and thigh, the delicate line of his throat leading down to his chest. I traced the shadows of his graceful fingers. I used some medium to give the lights a transparent highlight. I could feel the blood singing in my ears and between my thighs. I wasn't painting a man, I was painting my fantasy.

Suddenly Berty was telling the model to take a break and placing masking tape outlines of the lovely Edward's hands and feet on the chaise. I snickered to see Jessica was off her stool and out the door in an instant. Maybe she was going to masturbate in the bathroom.

I put my brush in the tin of water on my cart and stretched my arms up. My back cracked. I wiggled the stiffness out of my shoulders, patted my pocket to be sure I had some money, and headed down to the vending machines downstairs.

Lauren was just getting a diet Pepsi out of the drink machine when I walked in. She sneered at me as she made room for me to get a drink. Just to rub her nose in it I selected a regular Pepsi. I'm skinnier than she is, yet I do nothing to work for it.

As I was scooping my soda out of the slot in the machine, Lauren said "I saw you scoping out Berty's latest eye candy. There was a puddle of drool under your easel."

I shrugged. "It wasn't me; it must have been the puddle from Jessica trickling over." I do not drool, bitchface. Lauren gave me a catty smile.

"Right. Did you check out his appendage?" she asked in a stage whisper. "I thought the guys were going to hide out from that monster. Except for Eric. He looked like he was enjoying the view as much as Berty."

"I don't pay attention to things like that," I lied through my teeth, trying to focus on the candy machine choices. Snickers or Pop-tarts …

She gave me a pointed look and I started to feel angry. I knew where this was leading. "How could I forget! You're probably unimpressed since you did Enormous Emmett."

Ugh. I rolled my eyes and turned to Lauren. "That's right," I said with sarcastic cheerfulness. "Ever since Emmett I haven't found a man with a big enough dong! I've moved on to donkeys! Get a life Lauren. Who cares about a life model with a big dick?"

She gave me a smirk and a shrug, and I had a sinking feeling. I turned around slowly to see our model, the lovely Edward, standing in the doorway of the vending area. The tatty robe was loosely belted around him, showing a sliver of his chest, and his feet were bare. His face was nearly expressionless but for his raised eyebrows as he looked steadily at me. I felt the burning blush spread from my neck up over my cheeks.

It was really too much to hope he hadn't heard that. Open mouth, insert foot. I muttered _excuse me_ and dashed past him.

I ran out to the lounge and found Seth already there, reclining on the wood bench with his feet out in front of him. I patted my jeans pockets and realized I had left my cloves back in the classroom, in my bag. I sighed. Seth smiled at me and shook a Camel out of his pack towards me.

"Thanks," I said, taking the proffered cigarette. Seth lit it for me and watched me inhale and slowly exhale.

"I don't think I can go back in there," he said, launching directly into the middle of the conversation. Sadly, I know Seth too well, and knew exactly what he meant.

"Me either."

"He's way too pretty for a man. It's making me feel all gay just to look at him. Do you think Berty will notice if I just don't put in his junk?"

"Definitely. He knows you're too good to just forget that kind of thing." Seth's too good by half for that. I'm not threatened, but Seth is a prodigy.

"Hey, why are you avoiding? I'd think you'd be in there…" I sat on a chair beside Seth.

"I developed a serious case of athlete's mouth." Seth thought about that. I knew, bright boy that he is, he'd figure that out.

"Oops."

"Yeah." Seth turned his head and squinted at me with a smile.

"So spill, Bells, what did you say to Mister Big and Pretty that was so awful?"

"I didn't say anything to him. Lauren brought up me and Emmett and he overheard me telling her that since Em I've been doing livestock. Oh, and that I don't care about a model with a big dick." Seth's mouth fell open and after a shocked silence, he began bellowing with laughter.

"You're not really doing livestock, are you?"

"Ugh, no! Gross! As if I could find any donkeys in the middle of Los Angeles anyway!" Seth laughed harder. I considered kicking his skinny butt off the bench. He wiped his eyes and smiled up into my scowl.

"Glad you find it so funny. I was mortified."

"As you should be. How is Emmett the Elephant, anyway?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen him much lately. He may be coming to the party on Saturday," I said nonchalantly. It wasn't as if Emmett and I had been dating.

"Oh, yeah, about the party … I may have a date."

"Oh. Well, you can bring him anyway, you know." Seth shoved at me.

"My date is a girl, bull-rider Bella." Seth was easy to tease about his heterosexuality. He was probably the only flagrantly straight guy in the painting department.

"Fine, fine, bring a girl, see if I care. Just no making out at the Un-Lover's Party, got it?"

"Got it. Well, c'mon, let's get back in there. You can hide behind me." Seth was scrawny but tall and that seemed like a good idea. I could sneak back to my easel.

Walking back to class I gave myself a mental pep-talk. Maybe he's deaf and didn't hear any of it. Maybe he only heard part of it. What difference did it make if a model overheard me? It isn't like I was going to be seeing him outside of class or anything. It's not as if I would be talking to him again after Thursday's pose was over.

Back in the classroom the Mr. Big and Pretty hadn't yet returned to his place on the chaise. I felt relief for a moment, but then I noticed he was wandering through the easels, looking at the paintings. Just as he was reaching my painting, Berty called him and he went back to the models stand to get into position. I was still standing by the door and I saw as he took off the robe.

I was completely distracted from my self-consciousness by the sight of him. From here I was looking at his back. Lovely Edward was lovely all over, as far as I could tell. He had a patch of skin on his shoulder that looked odd, and after a moment I realized it was make-up. How strange. I wondered what it was covering. I paused to admire him as he settled back into the pose.

Seth hadn't noticed me stopping by the door and had already made his way past my easel to his own set-up. I took a deep breath and walked stiffly to my easel and hid behind it. I slouched on my stool and covered my face with my hands. I wasn't sure how I would manage to get through the rest of the class.

_What difference does it make?_ I reminded myself. He's just a body, a bowl of fruit for me to paint. I peeked around my painting at him and that thought crumbled. My body was telling me he was not a bowl of fruit. I had never felt so turned on just by looking at a person. Just_ looking_.

I looked back at the painting and began to really see what I had begun. I was painting desire. I mixed a little paint and just paused, looking at Edward. As I was considering, Berty came up behind me.

"Ah, this is lovely, really lovely. I like how richly you have painted the darks. You have done a beautiful job capturing the translucency of the model's skin. Oh, and that curve of the hip and the muscular way you have painted his … yes, it's really lovely, very sensual, you have a wonderful skill with flesh when you are motivated, it seems. I think you may have something we can put in the hall for our class' week in March, maybe something to enter in the Student Show. Keep it up."

By the time he had finished, I was blushing again, but I wanted nothing more than to turn and stick my tongue out at Lauren's rat-face. Hear that? Berty likes how this painting is going.

Buck up, Bella. I peered around the easel and let my eyes drink in the sight of the model. So … ungh. I bit my lip and got back to painting.

**A/N: Thank you to Irritable Grizzzly and MrsDazzled for the beta duties, and making suggestions that kept me going. Thanks to my mother, who will now really know what I was up to. **

**Please review, let me know what you think. It really makes my day to get little messages.**


	2. 2 Gentileschi

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading and adding this story to alerts and favorites. Thank you to MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly, my darling beta readers. **

**My other story, Don't Stand So Close to Me, is in the final round of voting for the Indie Twi Fic awards, in the category Best Undiscovered Erotica. Thank you to everyone who has voted!**

Gentileschi

BPOV

I was early again to life painting class on Thursday, though it wasn't to get a good spot. Since we were doing a long pose, we had to take the same places as last class. This time I came early to look at what I had already painted and think about where I should go next. It was not, _definitely not_, to try to catch a glimpse of the model before class started. At least that's what I tried to convince myself.

I must have been ovulating on Tuesday, I told myself. Whenever I'm in the middle of my cycle I'm extra horny. Ovary-goggles instead of beer goggles. That would explain why I got so hot looking at the model. It wasn't him, just my hormones. He couldn't be that good-looking, otherwise why the hell would he be modeling for a life class instead of … oh, I don't know, Playgirl magazine or something. Certainly Los Angeles has plenty of modeling opportunities for hot young men who didn't mind being naked. Maybe it was just my imagination that he was that good-looking. Maybe Seth had been sprinkling drugs on my cigarettes.

I stepped back to look at my painting. I liked the skin. Just as Berty had said on Tuesday, it looked real. Silky enough to lick the paint. However, the shadows around the neck and under the butt looked strange, so I resolved that would be where I would concentrate first today. Otherwise I was pretty happy. I had another board gessoed and ready. I had brought it in from my 300-level studio space to class and stashed it in a rack in the back of class, out of the way. If I finished my first painting early perhaps I would paint another today. Berty wouldn't mind, as long as the work was good. Maybe I would move to another position…

I finished setting up before anyone else arrived. Bored with pretending to look at my painting, I went and got a Pepsi and lingered in the hall outside class while students filtered in, pretending to examine the drawings from a beginning class tacked on the wall. I moved very slowly down the hall, sneaking looks towards the changing room. I was only a couple of yards away from the models' changing room when I spotted_ him_ stalking towards me down the hall.

Nope, it hadn't been my imagination. He was a god. Even with his clothing still on I felt my insides go all wiggly. He was wearing skinny jeans and a white t-shirt with a black leather jacket. He was wearing black boots just like Jasper wore - like motorcycle boots. His dark hair was all awry. He was very James Dean-looking with his clothes on. As he opened the door to the models' room I noticed he had a bookbag slung over one shoulder. Maybe he was a student?

It also wasn't my imagination that he glanced at me as he went into the dressing room. His expression was unreadable: not quite hostile but certainly sharp and chilly. He probably was thinking he had to stay away from the freak who does donkeys.

My smart-ass mouth was going to be the death of me someday, solely from embarrassment. I sighed and meandered into class. Instead of waiting hunched at my easel for class to begin and the "licksome" model to arrive, I made my way over to where Seth was setting up. His painting was not as far along as mine, nor as far along as I would expect from Seth, but it was a gorgeous thing anyway. The body seemed like it was a dimensional object, not a flat surface with color smeared on it.

I hopped up on Seth's stool while he brought out his paints and mediums and peered into his box. Seth only paints with oils, always. He had Simple Green for cleaning his brushes and a myriad of jars for linseed oil, dammar varnish, and glazing mediums. I was surprised he didn't have a mortar and pestle for grinding his own pigments. He's a bit of a purist when it comes to painting.

"Your painting is looking great, Bella. I like how the shadows look like they're bleeding," he said without looking up. I was surprised. I hadn't known he had looked at my painting on Tuesday.

"Thanks," I muttered. "Yours is looking good but I would expect you to be more finished than this." Seth shot me a look but smiled at the same time.

"Yeah, it's slow going. I have to look to paint, right?"

"Yeah."

"And here's Mister Big and Pretty now," he commented under his breath. As slowly as I could I peeked out to see the model. Today, instead of the nasty old robe the school provided for models, he had on a cotton robe that looked new and flip-flops on his feet. He sat on the edge of the model's stand, looking a bit lost, then bent his bronze-haired head to the book he had in his hand. It was an incredibly thick paperback.

"_War and Peace_…" I muttered.

Seth grimaced. "Hopefully it's a cheesy romance. It would be so unfair if he's smart as well as hung," he said to me under his breath.

Berty came in and Edward slowly set down his book and untied his robe. He didn't do it slow enough to be sexy, but just slowly enough that I could see how nervous he was. With Berty's direction he arranged himself on the chaise, carefully placing his body within the masking tape outlines. His eyes flickered around the classroom a moment before he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. I let my eyes take in the sight of him, long and lean and so absurdly beautiful. I sighed.

"Back to the salt mine," I said to Seth as I gave up his stool and made my way over to my own easel. I considered my plan of action. In Tuesday's class I had just sketched in the model's face with the loosest of brush strokes. Now it was time to finish it.

Berty was just turning on the music and I was about to touch brush to board when Lauren spoke from just behind me, making me jump. "I don't know about that, Bella, I rather like the idea of leaving him faceless. He's got a pretty face but I don't think your skills can do him justice…" Lauren spoke low, but I wondered if the model heard, because his eyelids flickered and his fingers twitched. Lauren had gone back to her own easel before I could think of a witty response, and I didn't think yelling _Fuck you and the paintbrush you rode in on, Lauren_ was the grown-up response I wanted, so I just gave her a scowl. I noticed she was dressed more spiffy than her usual attire. Her hair was loose and straight, and she was wearing red lip gloss. Strange. I turned away, straightened my shoulders and focused. Paint and model.

I had a wonderful angle on Edward's face, a three-quarter view. His deep green eyes were focused on something behind me and his jaw looked tense. I didn't want to speculate about this tension, so I put it from my mind and studied the contours of his face, from his high cheekbones to his square jaw. I painted his lips, emphasizing the slight curl of his full mouth, making it more pouty than tense. It was as if by painting him I was touching him, and I put that lust and passion into the paint.

Berty wandered by and gave me a smile and a nod before continuing on to criticize someone else. It was brief, but I knew it was an excellent sign. Berty didn't interfere if he thought you were doing well.

I was totally lost in the sculptural shape of his hair when Berty called for a break. I stepped back. In my concentration I had forgotten my shyness of the model and had spent the past hour studying him shamelessly.

I studied the painting, tilting my head to the side, and decided I liked it. With a few more touches, I decided I was done. Any more and I would be over-working it and might lose the freshness the painting had. Half of making a good painting is knowing when to stop.

As my classmates filed out and the model put on his robe, I took my board down and left it leaning against the frame of the easel. I made my way to the student racks in the back of the room and dug around for my gessoed board to start another painting. I was hidden from view behind racks and the clutter of easels when I heard voices. Lauren and an unknown man who I realized after a moment must be Edward. I froze, hidden, and listened.

"So, hi," Lauren said in her best sultry voice, "um, you're doing an excellent job modeling for class."

"Thank you." His voice was as smooth and deep as I would have expected, clear and accentless. Lauren obviously didn't pick up on the cool closure in his voice because she kept talking.

"So, what are you reading?" she asked, changing tactics.

"A book," he said. His voice was completely bland. I nearly giggled. She was getting shot down and I was a fly on the wall. It was too good.

"Oh, is it good?" Lauren was pulling out all the stops. Her voice dripped honey.

"Yes." I heard a page turn.

"You seem to like reading," she said, and he didn't respond. I could picture them, his bronze head still bent over the book while Lauren shifted from foot to foot in her peep-toe heels. The silence dragged out.

"So, um, after class, would you like to join me for a coffee?"

"Why?" he asked. I squelched another giggle as I heard a page turn.

"Why not? Maybe you can tell me about the book you're reading…"

"I don't think so." His tone made it clear that it was final, but Lauren wasn't the type to give up so easily. I peeked out from my corner to see Lauren flipping her silky blonde hair over her shoulder. Guys seemed to think she was beautiful until they got to know her bitchy personality. Edward wasn't even looking up at her. Her flirty red fuck-me lip gloss was wasted on the top of his head.

"I'll buy," she tried, but he cut her off.

"Don't you think you see enough of me in class? I'm pretty sure you're not interested in anything I have to say. You've already seen the whole package, so what's left?" He never even lifted his face from his book.

Lauren gasped and her mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. She pivoted and stalked away. The only person left in the classroom was Edward, reading his book. I heard him sigh.

I sat down on the floor as quietly as I could and shook with silent merriment. At least I wasn't the only one embarrassed by the most gorgeous model ever, and my embarrassment wasn't directly at his hands. I wondered if Edward had heard Lauren's part of my mortifying moment of man-mashing on Tuesday. I could just about kiss the beautiful creature for shooting down bitchy Lauren. It almost made me feel better about my chronic foot-in-mouth attack.

I didn't want to come out from hiding and give away my eavesdropping. I waited until some other students had drifted back from break, talking and clattering around, to finish yanking my new board out and make my way back to my easel. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Edward look up at me, then look towards the back of the classroom. Maybe he realized I had been there all along.

By the time Berty returned I had the new board set up and I was wandering around the classroom looking at other students' paintings. Jessica, unsurprisingly, had the proportions all off. I wished she would give up on painting and find some other department to torture with her mediocrity. Lauren's painting was good but only in places. On it went. Seth's was still looking unfinished, unusual for him.

"Attention," Berty squawked, clapping his hands. "We'll paint for another hour and then it will be time for critique. In one hour let's have all the paintings in the hall." There were murmurings.

Edward returned to his pose and we returned to our paintings. Berty had switched to opera for today, Delibes'_ Lakme_. I loved the Flower Duet and I hummed a little as I worked. Since I would only have an hour, I decided to paint a study of his hand where it dangled from the back of the chaise. Fortunately this board was smaller than the first one, so it would be perfect for a study. His skin was really quite fair, strange for Los Angeles, land of the perpetually tan, and had a scattering of freckles. I realized how nearly hairless his arms were, the skin sleek and delicate looking. I covered the white gesso with a layer of ivory black before starting to lay down the lighter tones of his skin to give the lights a translucency.

I painted the hand as if it were a Roman relic, a fragment of marble on a cloud of gray sheet. Like the larger painting, I used deep reds and vibrant oranges for the shadows and liberally applied medium to make translucent layers. I wasn't quite finished when Berty announced our hour was up, but I decided I could work on it later, if I wanted.

The model pulled his robe on, picked up his book and stalked out of the room. I grabbed my two paintings and took them to the hall.

Seth and I sat in the hall next to each other, and silently looked over the paintings. Without words we pointed out to each other particular paintings we liked. Berty walked up and down, eyeing everyone's attempts with pursed lips and his finger to his chin. Every so often he would _hmm_ or _ahh_, and then pace on to the next one. He stopped at Seth's.

"Not up to your usual standard, Seth. Are you having an off week?" Seth hung his head in mock shame. "Your proportions are perfect, everything is quite lovely, but it looks like you could have used more time. In fact, it appears many of you would like more time." Several people shifted.

I heard Jessica whisper to Lauren, "I'd like more time with the model, but not to _paint_…"

"Jessica," Berty turned to her painting next, and I wondered if he had overheard her. His voice was sharper than usual as he pointed out her difficulties with proportion and her banal color choices. As Berty continued with the rest of the class I tuned out most of his critique. Seth spoke up from time to time as we reviewed the paintings. I pretended to look at Berty while I kept an eye on the models' dressing room door.

Then Berty was in front of my two paintings. "…And you found time to finish two paintings, Bella. Very nice work. Very nice use of strong warm colors for your darks. It really throws the cool lights of the skin into relief."

Lauren's scowl deepened. "I think her proportions are off. The model was not so lean or …long." she said. Berty looked at Lauren, surprised, then back at the paintings, using his thumb to measure.

"I think she takes some creative license. The figure seems more sinuous than our Edward, but he does give that impression of being long and attenuated, doesn't he? Hm, yes. I think Bella exaggerates that aspect, but it works, don't you think?" Lauren shook her head, but Berty had already turned his back on her to gesture to the hand painting. "This is really quite nice. You capture the sense of weight and the limpness without it looking like an empty glove. It looks like I could just lift that hand off the canvas…"

I flipped Lauren the bird as Berty hummed some more and moved on.

"Lauren, you did a nice job on the torso and limbs, but I think some parts look a little over-worked. Were you having trouble … um, here?" Berty waved his hand in the general crotch area of Lauren's painting.

It indeed looked like she had painted the penis several times and it had gotten to the indeterminate lump of flesh phase. I snuck a look at Lauren and she was turning red. Seth, leaning against me, was shaking with the effort to not laugh. I didn't laugh, but I had a smug grin as Berty continued to complain about Lauren working the life out of her painting.

Then critique was over and we were gathering up our paintings. As I reached for my paintings Berty put his hand out to stop me.

"Bella, I'd like to keep these in my office to put up for our class when we have the hall next week. Is that okay?" I shrugged and carried them into his open office at the end of the hall. I walked in and looked around for a spot to put them in the overcrowded room. Everything from still-life props to painting materials littered nearly every surface and shelf. I decided to leave my paintings propped against his desk. I stepped back to look at them.

I was pleased with both the paintings. They seemed to embody all the beauty I had been trying to capture: the beauty of this week's model. I might have completely embarrassed myself but I had the paintings. They were a way of touching him without touching. There was real passion in these two paintings.

I turned and skipped out of the office. Well, I tried, but I only got turned around before I ran full into Edward as he stepped into the doorway. The piece of paper he was holding was knocked out of his hand by the collision. My face bounced off his t-shirted chest before I nearly fell on my ass. He caught me by the arms and set me upright. He was looking at me with a strange and intense expression.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" I cried. He let go of me after making sure I wouldn't fall over and I bent to pick up his paper. It was some kind of form. When I straightened up to give it to him he was staring over me at my paintings. I turned redder than before. I shook the piece of paper at him to get his attention. "Um, you dropped this -- well, I ran you down…" He turned curious eyes to me and then slowly down to the piece of paper I was holding towards him.

"Thank you," he said, and we stood there staring at each other. He was blocking my exit, and I was getting more and more embarrassed by the way he was staring at me. My insides were all shaky, and I wanted to lean into him, but the way he was looking at me was disconcerting. He didn't look interested, just intense, like he was trying to figure out what I was. Maybe I had paint on my face. It wouldn't be the first time.

When the tension got too much and I felt I would have to look in a mirror to check myself for giant blotches of cobalt blue, I cleared my throat and lifted my eyebrows towards the door. He jumped a little as if I had woken him.

"Oh, pardon me," he said, and stepped back to let me exit. Berty bustled up just then, muttering to himself. He took the piece of paper from Edward but began talking to me.

"Bella, good work this week. You should enter those paintings in the student show next month. I didn't want to talk about it in crit, but this is much better than your past work in my class. I think you are starting to realize your potential. Hang on a moment." He took the paper to his desk and signed it. He turned to Edward and addressed him as he returned what I realized must be the payment release.

"Thank you, Edward, I hope you'll be able to model for us again sometime, you did very well." Edward looked at me and nodded briefly, muttered his thanks to Berty and was gone. I felt like some part of me went with him. Maybe he'd be our model again. Then I kicked myself. Maybe I could embarrass myself in front of him again.

"Bella," Berty was saying, "there is a scholarship opportunity coming up that I think you might want to apply for. If you can put together a body of work of this quality I think you have a good shot at it. It is for juniors, painting majors. The deadline is March 18th, a month away. If you're interested I will get the paperwork for you."

I nodded numbly. I didn't know if I could keep up this kind of intensity in my paintings, but I would try.

**A/N: Have you ever been an art model? Have you ever been a student in a class with a nude model? **


	3. 3 ToulouseLautrec

ASC 3

Toulouse-Lautrec

BPOV

I heard the doorbell and went to answer it, clutching my wineglass in one hand. I was glad I had insisted on wearing my Con's as I worked my through the ocean of black skull-and-crossbones balloons to the front door. I was pretty well on my way to the land of inebriation, and floor balloons are major handicaps to the drunk and high-heeled. There were at least two dozen people already at our party, and if many more showed up the fire department might take issue. Alice had the experience and foresight to contact all our neighbors ahead of time, so hopefully no one would complain. Most of our neighbors were here, in fact.

I opened the door, shouting "Welcome to the House of No Love!" Emmett was there, taking up the whole doorway. He grinned and swept me up in a huge hug. My feet dangled off the ground.

"Swan, my little love monkey! How the hell are you?" he boomed. I squealed and gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. He squeezed me until I thought my eyes would pop.

"Put me down, you elephant!"

Emmett carried me into the living room and set me down. I tried to smooth down my blue dress with one hand, and gave it up as a bad deal. I looked up to see he had two people with him. Neither looked happy. The first was a tall buxom blonde. She was absolutely gorgeous in a long cream colored knit wrap over a black dress, but she had a scowl that would put Lauren to shame. She was eying me with undisguised animosity. I realized this must be Emmett's new girlfriend. Emmett's affectionate display was not winning me any points on her meter.

The other person was … the model from Berty's class. He was staring at me with shock and disgust, as if I had cut a fart under his nose.

I decided to try to make things better, as much as I could. Weaving only slightly from all the wine, I smiled at the blonde and stuck out my hand.

"Hi, there, I'm Bella." The blonde glared at Emmett and then took my hand. She smiled icily.

"Rosalie. Nice to meet you." She released my hand and went back to glaring at Emmett.

"Is Jasper here already? Where should I put this, Swan?" Emmett asked, holding out the bottle of Jack Daniels I hadn't noticed him holding. I waved him towards the kitchen where I had last seen Alice and Jasper, talking. I giggled thinking about it. Emmett took Rosalie's hand and pulled her though the balloons and partiers.

I reluctantly turned to the beautiful man, trying my best not to think about how he looked naked. Not working. The memory of his naked form was too powerful. He had a scruff of beard on his face that hadn't been there when I saw him before. I wanted to touch that stubble. I could feel my face heating up and hoped the lighting was just bad enough to hide how red I was. Trying to be the good hostess I put my hand out to the absurdly handsome man.

"B-Bella." I stammered.

"Edward," he said, almost too low to be heard. He took my hand tentatively and I gasped and stumbled to the side. He looked alarmed.

When his hand had touched mine I had felt a thrill of contact all over my body, from my fingertips to the ends of my hair, and deep inside to my very center. I think I might have had an orgasm, just from a handshake.

Edward let go of my hand and tried to catch me but I stumbled away from him without a word, leaving him to fend for himself.

I spent the next two hours avoiding Edward. I chatted up the neighbors. I busied myself making sure there was enough ice and helped cut Alice's black chocolate ganache skull-and-crossbones cake. If I saw Edward drawing near I found a reason to walk away. He didn't seem to be following me, but whenever I looked up I found his eyes on me, cool and thoughtful.

The music was a bit loud for normal conversation so I just drank my wine and avoided our neighbor James' attempts to tell me yet again how floral design is an art form and should be taught at the School for Fine Art. I avoided the drinking game that was going on in the dining room, and the full-body groping disguised as dancing in the living room. From time to time I spotted Edward lounging about or chatting animatedly with Emmett or Jasper, but he always seemed to be looking at me. It was not an encouraging sort of look, more of a 'what the hell is wrong with that chick' look.

The strange tension I felt around Edward was killing me. I wanted to talk to him, flirt with him, maybe even just stand near him and listen to that hot voice, but I was still too embarrassed by my livestock rant on Tuesday to open my mouth around him. To find out on top of that he was Emmett's friend was even worse. So not only did he get to hear me spout off about some guy's monster dick, it was his friend's monster dick.

I promised myself I would check my smart mouth, and not say snotty sarcastic things any more. Hell, who was I kidding, I would always be saying things like that. It would be better if next time I just looked behind me first.

Perhaps, I thought, I should just apologize and try to start over fresh with him.

Eventually I was worn out from the dance of denial. I sat on the sofa with Jasper. Although he was talking to me his eyes quietly followed Alice as she flitted from one clot of conversing guests to the next.

"How have you been?" Jasper asked, his eyes never leaving Alice.

"Well, I suppose. You?" Jasper shrugged. He frowned suddenly and I followed his gaze to see Alice talking to a good-looking guy from the ceramics department. Figaro? Fellini? Felix. I was having a hard time focusing.

"I've been okay. Do you have anything to enter in the student show?" He was distracted. It was a stock question this time of year.

"Yeah, I think I do. How about you?" Jasper didn't respond and with that the small talk petered out completely. Jasper was completely focused on Alice. I decided to test this inattention.

"You know, Jazz, I'm planning on a sex-change operation. I'm scheduled for spring break. I'm going to change my name from Isabella to Isaac and convert to Judaism, which of course means I'll have to have a bris. What do you think?" I kept my voice quietly conversational, as if I were discussing traffic on the Santa Monica Freeway.

"Yeah, sounds good." He was definitely not paying attention.

"Yeah, I think it would be a boost to my art career. Maybe I can keep the coochie and get a job in the Valley starring in hermaphrodite films."

"Hmm. Nice." Nope, no attention for Bella. Felix was laughing at something Alice said and Alice had put her tiny hand on his arm. If she was trying to make Jasper jealous it was working well. Jasper's jaw was clenched. I swallowed the last bit of my wine and took Jasper's hand.

"Jasper." He looked at me, his expression dazed. I reached out and pushed his stringy blonde hair out of his face. He was getting fuzzy but even drunk I knew this was the right thing to do.

"Yeah, Bella?"

"Just go get her already."

"What?" Jasper's eyes opened wide.

"You heard me. Get off the sofa and go get Alice and take her to her room and fuck her brains out. She wants it, you want it. I'm tired of you not listening while I tell you about my hermaphroditic fantasies so get out of my sight and get busy. Tell Alice I'll hold down the party fort."

Jasper gawked at me. Then he lifted himself off the sofa and ambled off to pry Alice away from Felix. I watched as Jasper whispered in Alice's ear and her eyes widened before she excused herself from Felix and dragged Jasper off down the hallway. It gave me a warm feeling to see those wacky kids together.

Humming along to the music a little I wove my way to the kitchen to pour myself another glass of wine. Alice, over-achiever that she is, had so many boxes of booze in our tiny kitchen that it looked like she was trying to open a Trader Joe's. I busied myself for a few minutes with refreshing the snacks and checking the ice. I heard a noise and there was Edward, blocking the door between the kitchen and the dining room.

Don't think of him naked. Think of his clothes. He's got that kind of James Dean thing going, with the jeans and leather jacket and crazy brown hair. Not androgynous, but so damn pretty.

"Can I do you -- something? Do something for you?" I stuttered out nervously.

Edward gestured with his empty beer bottle. "Do you recycle?" I pointed towards a blue bin in the breakfast nook and he tossed the bottle in casually. He smiled at me and reached into the tub on the counter to fish another bottle of Chihuahua beer out of the melting ice.

I watched, hypnotized by his presence, as Edward popped the cap off the beer and took a long swig. I fumbled about for something to say that wouldn't sound stupid. All that came to mind was 'I want to lick you from your chin to that mole on your hip.' I cleared my throat and turned to rearrange the bags of snacks on the counter. Peripherally I could see that Edward wasn't moving, just standing by the door drinking his beer. I tried to remind myself of my plan to apologize for the verbal vomit earlier in the week. Maybe I could start with small talk and work my way up.

"You're a friend of Emmett's?" I asked. Edward nodded. "Where have you been, because I've known Emmett for over a year and I've never seen you." I didn't mention that I hadn't seen Emmett at all for nearly four months, but I figured it was irrelevant. We'd spent enough time together last spring and summer.

"Well, I've known Emmett since seventh grade, and I've never seen you either," Edward said with a touch of defiance. He leaned his hip against the counter. It would be a great pose for life class, the classic Greek _contraposto_ stance. I tried again not to think of how nice he would look naked. Naked in my kitchen. Avoid that image.

He took a swig of his beer and I blurted, "You look really good with your clothes on." He snorted beer all over himself. I mentally slapped myself. Ugh. I hadn't meant to say it out loud, and that definitely wasn't an apology. I must be drunker than I realized.

Edward cursed at the beer he'd aspirated on himself and I grabbed a towel, trying to wipe beer off his t-shirt. He held his arms up, looking down at me as I patted at his chest. I stopped and looked up at him. It was a moment. He had a slight smile on his beautiful lips, and his eyes were so very green as he gazed at me with heavy-lidded eyes. What my mother would have called bedroom eyes. I became hyper-conscious of my hand on his chest, just a t-shirt and a towel between me and Edward's smooth skin...

He just stared down at me. For a time all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears, all I could feel was the slight rise and fall of his chest as he drew breaths. Then I dropped the towel on the counter and pushed past Edward back into the noise and crowd of the party. There were fewer people, and things were very definitely winding down, but it was still crowded enough. I put as much distance between me and my continuing embarrassment as I could.

I sat on the armchair in the farthest corner of the living room. It was only then I realized I had left my refilled wineglass in the kitchen. Well, it would just stay there. I had probably had enough, anyway. No reason to completely expose myself as an idiot to the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. I'd spoken to him once? Twice? Each time it has been embarrassing, falling over my feet or over my tongue.

_Just because he's beautiful doesn't mean anything. He's still a person, Bella,_ I reminded myself. _He takes his pants off one leg at a time_ … Wow, that visual was not helping. I put my head in my hand and sighed.

Emmett came over and crammed himself next to me on the armchair, forcing me to the side. I was glad it was a big chair or I might have been flattened.

"So, my little sticky bun," he laughed. He was obviously catching up with my drunk. "How have you been? Do I have any competition here?"

"I'm fine, Em. Would you give the endearments a rest, though? I'm worried Rosalie might disembowel me with a frilly toothpick. It's bad enough that half the art department thinks we're a couple without you encouraging it."

"Oh, you're breaking my heart, Bella!" Emmett said with mock-passion. "We are a couple. A couple of _what_, now that's the question." I punched his arm.

"Be serious, Em. I've been getting teased about us."

"Who? I'll mess them up for giving you a hard time." He changed from cheerfully flirtatious to murderous in a heartbeat. I didn't want him getting mad at Lauren, but he had to stop acting like we were something we weren't.

"Don't do that, Emmett, just try to limit the _sweet cheeks_ comments, okay?" I lurched to my feet. I had spied Rosalie giving me the stink-eye from where she was talking to Edward in the dining room. "I've gotta go … bathroom," I said, gesturing vaguely. I headed for the hall. On the way Rosalie waylaid me.

"Hey, Bella, it's nice to finally meet you. Emmett showed me the performance video …" I didn't want to discuss that, so I cut her off rudely.

"Yeah, it's great to meet you, too. You seem really great, perfect for Emmett. Look, I think I'm going to barf, so…"

She let me go. Once in the bathroom I just sat on the closed toilet lid and put my head on the edge of the sink. The party wasn't quite a disaster but it wasn't going well for me. My buddy Seth hadn't shown. Emmett and his overt affection were wearing me out. I worried Rosalie was the jealous type and might be seeing me as the competition. I cursed Emmett for showing her the video we made for our Intermedia course last year. Jasper and Alice were hopefully entertaining each other. Edward ….

I knew I was being a lousy surrogate hostess, but I was too confused by my feelings to care.

After maybe fifteen minutes of my bathroom pity party and realizing that wallowing in moroseness and wine would not make me puke, I left the bathroom, checking the hall to make sure Rosalie wasn't lying in wait. I slipped out the hall and towards the back yard, stopping to get my cloves from the kitchen counter. Alice disapproves of smoking, so I moved in only with the condition I only smoke outside. Being California, I was lucky to be able to smoke anywhere.

I went out the back door, closing it carefully behind me. I lit my clove while standing on the dark back step. It was cold, but my dress had long sleeves. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered as I blew out smoke.

"Chilly?" Edward said from right beside me. I yelped and jumped.

"Crap! You scared me."

"Sorry, I just came out here to get some air," Edward said gesturing with a lit cigarette. He was slouched in one of the patio chairs we had gotten at Target, sitting just to the side of the steps where I stood. In the faint light coming from the kitchen window he was little more than a shadow with a bright orange speck of ember.

"I'm just escaping." I sat on the step and shivered. Edward nodded but didn't say anything.

I thought of my plan to make amends for my big mouth and decided this was as good a time as any. I girded on my booze balls and turned to look at him. As my eyes adjusted to the light I could see him a little better, especially when he turned to look at me, letting the diffused light fall across his face.

As he was looking at me right now.

"Did you say something?" he asked just as I took a deep breath to apologize. Baffled, I shook my head but then I heard it, too.

It was a rhythmic noise, and I could hear the mumble of voices but not quite words: a high giggle and the deeper rumble of a man's voice. A loud groan. I blushed to realize we were just under the window to Alice's room.

Jasper had obviously taken my advice literally.

"What...?" Edward cocked his head to the side to listen intently. His eyes widened. "Is that what I think it is?" he whispered. I dropped my head between my knees and focused on breathing in and out, trying to prevent the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble out of me.

This just made my humiliation complete. If Edward didn't already think I was some deranged, filter-free, donkey-fucking perv, now we were sitting in the freezing cold listening to my friends shag. Alice was in full voice tonight. The noise from the window was getting louder.

"Yes, Jazz! Yes, Jazz! Just! Like! THAT!" James' dog, in the yard next to us, began to howl along with Alice. I wanted to bang my head on the cement of the patio until I lost consciousness. Jasper was groaning loudly now. Then Jasper and Alice exclaimed loudly and in unison and fell silent. Edward and I were silent, too.

I knew if I looked at Edward right now I would start laughing, so I kept my head down, my hair hanging over my face. I should just accept that nothing would ever go right around this man and go sleep off the three or four bottles of wine I had polished off.

I stubbed out my clove and stood up.

"Right, then, show's over," I muttered and stumbled back into the kitchen. The party was still going on, but it seemed mellower and quieter than before I went outside.

I located my wine glass and emptied it in one draught. I poured a huge glass of water and carried it with me to my bedroom. Just as I was about to go in my room Alice came dancing out of her room. Her face was radiant and her feet were bare, but otherwise she looked as perfect as before her liaison. If not for the stunning audio I wouldn't have known about her and Jasper.

"Hey, Ali," I said, "I'm going to retire for the night before my fucking mouth gets me into more trouble. G'night." I closed the door before Alice could respond.

I peeled off my blue dress, and leggings, and removed my sneakers. In socks, bra and panties I lay on the bed with my wineglass and pulled out my sketchbook and pencil. I began doodling, drawing Edward's profile from memory. The sketches glared at me from the page the way he had glared at me all evening. I wondered what he had been thinking, when he had looked at me. Probably, _oh, there goes the girl with no verbal filter!_ Or maybe, _gosh, she doesn't look like the type to do donkeys_. Or really horrifyingly, _yeah, I could totally see her with a donkey. _

_Why do I care?_ I asked myself. Even if he's a friend of Emmett's, I might never see him again. He's just some life model. I snorted at my lame attempts at self-delusion. _Admit it, girl, you think_ _he's hot and you want him to think well of you. You do not want him to think you are deranged, which is surely what he thinks now._

I threw my sketch book on the floor in a fit of pique. Fuck that. If I saw him again, I'd apologize. Sober. I put in my earplugs, crawled under the duvet, and fell asleep.


	4. 4 Basquiat

**A/N, Thank you to everyone reading! Unfiltered Bella is fun to be around, but not always so much fun to be. **

**My other long story, 'Don't Stand So Close To Me' is currently in the running for an Indie TwiFic Award in the category of Best Undiscovered Erotica WIP. A link to the voting is in my profile, please go and vote for it! **

**Thank you to my betas: Irritable Grizzzly for reminding me of my funny, and MrsDazzled for pointing out that not everyone knows art speak. Thank you to my mom for putting up with an art major for a kid. Thank you to my husband for offering to be Edward's body double.**

XXX

ASC 4

Basquiat

BPOV

The monstrous hangover that I was sure could be seen from space kept me from joining Alice and Jasper for brunch. Alice came into my room at the break of noon carrying a jumbo cup of water and two Ibuprofen to my bedside.

"Bella, we're off to hunt down bagels and lox in their native habitat - Fairfax. Do you want to join us?" I groaned and swiped threateningly from under my comforter and Alice retreated.

By the time they had returned, bearing a bag with an everything bagel and cream cheese for me, I was sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee and washed hair. I still felt like I had been run over by a truck. Jasper gave Alice a kiss at the door and left, waving at me. I didn't dare nod or wave in return for fear something necessary might fall off.

As I ate the bagel I began to feel more human and less like a poorly assembled mannequin. Alice pulled out trash bags and began the cleaning process. After a little while I joined her, wading through balloons and cleaning up. I started in on the living room. Alice took the first bag of trash out the back door and returned. I picked up odds and ends while she moved the furniture back to its normal configuration.

"Emmett's girlfriend seems alright for a business major, don't you think?"

"I guess. I didn't really talk to her. Wait, she's a business major? How did she and Emmett hook up?" Emmett was an art student and had never to my knowledge had any interest in hanging out around the business school.

"Yeah, well, she teaches knitting at that yarn shop on Melrose near _the Improv_ and Emmett met her when he took a class there last fall. She made that fabulous shawl she was wearing last night, alpaca lace weight..."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Alice, I must still be drunk on that cheap wine. It sounded like you said Emmett took a knitting class."

Alice cocked her head to the side like an inquisitive bird. "Well, you may still be drunk, but that is what I said."

"Emmett took a knitting class," I said flatly.

"Yep. Jasper and Emmett have this gambling thing going, you know."

"Yeah." I knew all too well. It had been Emmett losing a bet with Jasper that led to the performance video that made Emmett's and my reputations in the School of Fine Art. Ron Athey would be proud. Well, if he wasn't too busy stapling his crotch to notice a couple of SOFA students. "So?"

"So Emmett had to enroll in a knitting class last fall when he lost a bet, something about baseball, I don't know." Alice waved her hand dismissively, then stopped and fixed me with a beady eye. "Did you really tell Jasper to ravish me or is he making that up?" she said, launching right into the meat of the conversation. I was surprised by the abrupt change of topic, still trying to wrap my hung-over brain around the idea of Emmett knitting. Gosh, I was more out of the loop than I thought.

"Why? Are you upset about it?" It sure sounded like she'd been enjoying herself last night. I hoped that wasn't going to backfire on me.

"No, I'm really glad. I just wondered if Jazz was making that up or if you were really pimping me out." I looked up from where I was fishing a crumpled napkin out from under the sofa to evaluate her expression. Alice was smiling, and not in a vicious, rip-your-ovaries-out sort of way. This was promising.

"I guess my answer depends on how well he did the ravishing last night. From the back door step it sounded like things went well for you two." Alice's eyebrows shot up.

"You were listening in?" she asked incredulously, blushing a little. I straightened up and put the napkin in the trash. I didn't want to think about why it had been stuffed under the sofa. I picked up a couple more empty beer bottles and took them to the overflowing recycle bin.

"Not intentionally. Edward and I were outside having a smoke and heard the performance. It didn't make for an awkward situation at all." I said as I returned to the living room.

"Oh." Alice's smile became more catlike. "You were hanging out with Edward? How did it go? Maybe we should drag the two of you along tomorrow when we go out for lunch, make it a double date... " Alice suggested slyly as she patiently popped the remaining skull and crossbones balloons with an exacto knife.

"Don't do me any favors, Alice. I don't think he likes me." I turned away to fetch a runaway balloon from behind the wing back chair.

"What? Based on one evening at a party?" she snorted. "Give him a chance."

"I'd love to," I muttered. "I'm just … well," I said, straightening up and turned to face Alice. "Last night wasn't the first time I've seen him…" Alice gasped.

"What did he do?"

"Nothing. Well, really … nothing. He was our model for life painting this past week." I turned away again, feeling oddly embarrassed.

Alice made a strange noise and I turned to find her choking with laughter. "Oh my god! Oh, that's what Jasper was talking about with … oh! So, wait, you've seen him naked?!"

"I've seen him _nude_. We don't have naked models, we have nudes. What do you mean, what Jasper was talking about?"

Alice flapped her hands and snorted again. She ignored my question. "Oh, why couldn't I be a painting major?"

"Because you want to make a real living?" I answered her rhetorical question with some bite, getting impatient. "What is going on?"

Alice laughed harder and leaned on the armchair to keep from falling over. She wiped an imaginary tear from her eye and said "That betting thing, Emmett knitting, all that? Well, apparently they do this with Edward, too. More, since he moved in with them. He lost a bet and the punishment was being a life model for a month."

"He's modeling because he lost a bet?" Of all the bizarre reasons I had thought of, that had not even crossed my mind. Alice, however, was thinking of more carnal issues.

"Uh-huh! Oh! Is he big? He's got those big hands and feet. I bet he's huge!"

"Big enough. I thought Jessica and Eric were going to arm-wrestle for him. But, Alice! You know non-erect -- um -- size has little relationship to how big ..." I blushed again.

Alice didn't notice. "Jasper is going to _plotz_ when I tell him Edward was in your class! The embarrassment…!"

Alice danced off to find her cell phone and I was left considering the situation. Poor Edward. It wasn't his own idea to take off his clothes in front of a life class.

But I did hope he'd be back to model for my class. I wondered if his month was up.

XXX

Thursday night I walked out of my evening Art History class and discovered the cherry on top of my day of crap pie.

The day was nearly a total loss from the get-go. First, I had come in Thursday morning to find that someone had stolen the new jug of gesso from my space in the 300 studio. In the morning class I had gotten a lousy crit from Professor Varner. We had a twitchy and hirsute model in Berty's class, though that hadn't mattered because my painting today had sucked spectacularly. I'd had a territory battle with Jessica, who had the space beside me in the 300 level studio, which ended with my drawing a line between our spaces with conte crayon and throwing anything that might be Jessica's over the line. I got a B on my paper for Art History comparing the social upheavals of the Black Death to the new humanistic approach to painting in the Renaissance ("interesting premise, but not enough support for your argument"). The B frustrated me because I prided myself on my Art History grades, as if getting A's in an academic subject made my decision to get a degree in art more respectable. It was a day I wanted to just erase from my memory.

Berty's pitying look in life painting had been the worst. I had talked to Seth about the scholarship and was not surprised to hear he was applying too. If I was going to put together something to compete with Seth, I would have to do better than I had done today. I would have to find that fire I had last week, when we had Mr. Big and Pretty as our model. I wondered how I would manage that without having him in front of me since it seemed unlikely he'd be modeling for my class anytime soon.

After Art History class I detoured by the hallway where Berty had put up our class' paintings, and looked at the two again. The paintings I had done were good, interesting, which gave me both a feeling of pride and self-pity. These two paintings were excellent but today's painting was crap. I stomped out to the parking lot, and as I was about to get in I looked down and saw the rear tire was completely flat. Down to the ground. Fuck.

I tossed my bag into the bed of my pickup and turned to look more closely at the tire. I couldn't see much in the light from the parking lot lamps but it was certainly not going anywhere like this. With a silent thank you to my father for paying my Triple A fees I pulled out my cell and my wallet and dialed the number.

"Every call is important, please stay on the line and a Triple A representative will be with you shortly to assist you. Please be ready with your Triple A membership number, location, and license plate number. Thank you for holding." The cheesy music came on the line. I lowered the truck's tail gate and sat on it, swinging my feet.

The fourth time the recording came on I was ready to bite something. The sixth I was ready to chew through my own arm. After the seventh I realized it was late at night and I was a young woman in a nearly empty parking lot in Los Angeles. I stared at the phone.

"No, I'm fine, I'm just waiting to be kidnapped and pressed into white slavery at a Mexican carnival! Why don't you just put a neon light on me? 'Helpless woman waiting here! Come and get her!'" I cursed at the phone.

"Bella?"

I jumped at the voice behind me and whipped around to find Edward standing not eight feet away, looking at me quizzically.

"Aggh," was all I managed to squeak out.

"Are you alright?" Edward asked, edging closer.

"I'm… no. Fuck. I'm sorry. I have a flat tire." I waved vaguely at the rear tire of the truck. I noticed my hand was shaking, leftover adrenaline from the start Edward had given me, and maybe the nerves that his presence always seemed to have on me. Trembling, I held the phone back to my head. Still with the fucking music.

"That tire's pretty flat," Edward muttered as he looked at the tire. "Do you need a hand changing it?"

"Ah, I've got Triple A, but I'm still on hold …" Edward looked around at the dim parking lot. I was parked right at the edge of a large pool of lamplight. He scanned the darkness beyond and then turned back and looked at me for a long moment.

"Have you got a spare and a jack?" he asked, tossing his bag lightly into the bed of my truck beside me.

I opened my mouth to tell him he didn't have to do that, and then shut it again. I was scared of being out in the dark parking lot alone. The idea of being helped by Edward, even though his presence made me nervous and skittish and prone to saying the most stupid things, was very appealing. I closed my phone and put it away.

"Why don't you get the jack and I'll get the tire," he said. I leapt to my feet and went rummaging behind the seat of the truck while Edward slithered underneath to remove the spare tire from its cradle.

A few minutes later and he was jacking up my truck and removing the nuts while I stood by shifting nervously from foot to foot. He worked with a deceptive slowness. No motion was wasted, no time was spent figuring out what he was about to do. He was very focused on the task. It made me feel more scattered than usual, the stereotypical flakey art student.

After removing the flat, Edward put it on the open gate of my truck and examined it.

I took the opportunity to light a clove. I offered Edward one but he declined. Leaning against the gate of the truck, Edward reached into his book bag and drew out a pouch of papers and tobacco. Quicker than I would have imagined possible he had rolled a sleek little cigarette. I watched him, utterly entranced by the sight of his tongue flicking out to lick the paper closed. I may have sighed, because he looked at me as he put the cigarette between his lips. I held out my lighter to him and he lit his cig with it. He snapped the lighter and bent his head to the flame. He was so beautiful it was breaking my heart. I wanted to paint him just like that, his face lit up by the flame cupped to the cigarette, his brow furrowed as he took the first drag. He smiled as he handed back the lighter and I stuffed it back in my bag.

Silence stretched out. I realized I was staring and busied myself with my own cigarette. I just listened to the sound of his breathing, the slow drag of our cigarettes. I wanted to apologize, sober. I reminded myself that this was my chance. Just as I spoke, though, he started speaking too, and we tripped over each others words.

"Um, you know --"

"I wanted to tell --"

We both stopped.

"Sorry, go ahead --"

"You were saying --"

Edward chuckled and I laughed outright. I gestured for him to go ahead.

"Your tire was slashed," he said calmly. I gasped in surprise.

"What?" I looked at the flat tire sitting in the bed and Edward reached over and stuck his finger through a hole in the sidewall. It was long and clean. Slashed, just like he said. "Why?"

Edward shrugged. "Either you pissed someone off, or..." he paused and took a drag off his cigarette. He shrugged again but he looked around the parking lot more alertly. He didn't need to say anything for me to imagine what he was thinking. That someone might have been stalking me, setting a trap.

"Have you pissed anyone off today?" he asked, and I turned to find him examining me with a wry smile. I dropped my eyes, embarrassed all over again.

"Regularly," I muttered. He chuckled and I blushed. I took a breath and let it out. No time like the present to clear the air, right? I started talking all in a rush, before he could stop me or I could change my mind.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot last week, with the modeling, and my tirade in the lunch room, and my drunkenness at the party and ... well, I just wanted to start over. Hi, I'm Bella Swan, art student. I love the desert, Frida Kahlo, and sushi." Edward smiled a quirky, lop-sided grin. Leaving his cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, he stuck out his hand.

"Hello, Bella Swan, I'm Edward Cullen, general lay-about and couch-surfer at Emmett and Jasper's. I like the beach, Italo Calvino, and looking out for damsels in distress." I looked at his hand a moment and then took it, steeling myself for the contact.

His hand was warm and dry, and enveloped my own entirely. My breath caught in my chest. I've felt the thrill of touching a man, but never just from a handshake, until last week, touching Edward.

"Sorry, my hand is dirty," he said, but made no move to take it back.

"So is mine."

He withdrew his hand and I realized I was just standing there, gaping at him. I turned back to my cigarette quickly, flicking ash. Edward dropped his cigarette and stomped it out, then turned back to the task of changing my tire. The spare was already out. I was grateful it was a full-size and not one of those tiny little spares that look like it was stolen off a Barbie corvette.

"So, Edward, what are you doing here at SOFA tonight, besides rescuing me?" I asked as he fit the spare.

"I was modeling for Berty's Intro life drawing class," he said. Of course, he would be modeling for multiple classes, not just mine. Damn. We'd had the hairy woman Makenna and the freshmen had Edward. It wasn't fair. I'd found a model I really liked, who looked just right, and he wasn't modeling for us...

I handed him the nuts and he twisted them on with his hands. Before I could lose my nerve I blurted out, "Would you be willing to model for me?"

His head jerked a little but he finished hand-tightening the nut he was working on before he turned to me. "What?"

"Um, would you model for me? There's a scholarship I want to apply for next month, and I really liked using you last week -- I mean, having you as a model in class, not using -- uh -- and you can keep your clothes on -- I mean -- you don't have to be ... nude. I can't pay you much but maybe I can cook for you or something..." Edward interrupted my verbal onslaught.

"A painting."

"What?"

"I'll model for you for the next month, as often as you want, but I want a painting."

"Really?" I asked, a little flummoxed. He turned back to the tire and used the tire wrench to tighten the nuts.

"Really. Just a painting. My choice." He tightened the last bolt and released the jack. The back of the truck eased to the ground, and the tire sagged a little, but didn't go flat. I was relieved it had some air in it.

A painting for modeling seemed like a bargain. I had so many paintings I rarely knew what to do with them. Sometimes I ended up covering them over with gesso and starting over.

"A painting for modeling. Deal."

He turned and smiled at me. "When do you want me to start?"

"Can you meet me in the 300 studio tomorrow?"

"Yeah." He held out his phone and I quickly entered my cell number.

"Call me when you get here and I'll get you."

"Fine." Edward looked around the lot again. He fetched his bag from my truck bed and slung it lightly over his shoulder. "Get a new tire tomorrow just in case, alright?"

I agreed and he watched as I climbed in my truck and started it up. Before backing out, I leaned out the window and called to him as he started to walk off.

"Edward?"

He paused and looked around at me.

"Thank you," I called.

He just waved and strode away.

XXX

**Gesso****: the water-based primer coating on a canvas or board, so the paint doesn't seep. If you buy a pre-stretched canvas at a store, it is already gessoed, but if you stretch your own canvas (as many artists and art students do) or paint on board you have to apply it yourself. Most gesso's are white, but they can also be other colors. Not all artists gesso their canvases. **

**Conte Crayon****: a pastel-like stick of clay and graphite for making sketches and under-drawings for painting. **


	5. 5 Manet

**A/N: Sorry this took so long. Hopefully you will find the wait worthwhile since this chapter is nearly double the length of my usual chapters. It just worked out that way. Now that summer is winding down and we fall back into a regular routine chez farkle I am expecting that updates will be more frequent. **

**Remember, this story is all Bella POV.**

XXX

ASC5

Manet

By the time I pulled into the driveway at home Thursday evening I was in shock at my own forwardness. Yeah, I have a big mouth but I have never, _never,_ been so forward with a man. I couldn't really categorize Edward as a _guy_. "Guy" suggested easy and mellow, a Sunday afternoon watching TV, hanging out, drinking a beer. Edward wasn't mellow and easy, he was intense and mysterious and made my nerves vibrate. He was definitely a _man_. He made me feel like a stupidly awkward little girl, which was something I wasn't used to feeling. I was used to feeling like "the bitch."

I sat and watched some rerun of Project Runway with Alice. Some little guy with funny hair was trotting around calling his fabric creation "fierce." At the first commercial, I turned to Alice and said, "Someone slashed my tire." Somehow I wasn't as upset about it as I knew I should be.

Alice's eyes bugged out. "No! You should have called me, Bella. I'd have come to get you. Did you call Auto Club?"

"Oh. I didn't even think to call you. I did call Triple A." Truly, I did call them. I just didn't reach them.

"Good girl," Alice said, patting my knee. "Did you see Edward at school?" I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"What? Why would you think I saw Edward?" I could hear the breathy girly quiver in my voice. Surely Alice could, too.

"Jasper said Edward was modeling for life class today, I thought maybe he was your model again," she said nonchalantly.

"Oh. No, yes. I mean, no, he didn't model for my class; yes, I did see him."

"Oh?" Alice raised an eyebrow at me and I felt as if she already knew what I was going to say.

"Um, yeah, he... he changed my tire for me," I muttered, feeling my neck warm.

"You said you called Triple A." Her voice was full of accusation.

"I did, but I was on hold forever, and Edward came along..."

Alice giggled. "Your guardian angel. Did you ask him out?"

"Alice!" I spluttered. "N-no! I asked him to model for me."

"Better yet! You're more devious than I gave you credit for! _Private _naked modeling! You're a genius!" She nearly leapt off the sofa in excitement, her eyes gleaming.

"No! I told him he didn't have to take his clothes off!" The warmth on my neck crawled over my cheeks. Although he didn't have to be nude, I was actually hoping he would... Alice looked disappointed, too, but she moved along.

"Are you going to pay him?" she asked, wiggling her brows at me.

"Yes, I'm going to pay him. He asked for a painting." Alice smiled smugly and I wondered what she thought she knew. Whatever it was, the situation wasn't what she thought.

It didn't mean anything. He was completely out of my league. I wasn't being modest. I knew what I looked like and I looked decent but he was on a different plane of existence. Perfection. This was work, not a flirtation or a date or anything sexual.

Alice patted my knee again. "That's my girl, Bella, just go after what you want. It's about time you put yourself out there."

I wasn't putting myself out there. That was the problem. I was the weird girl who hired a beautiful man to sit and let me ogle him.

After some more concerned noises and some speculation on who might have slashed my tire and for what nefarious purpose, I headed to bed. Alice asked if I was feeling alright and I said I was fine, just worn out. She gave me the sly face but didn't question me further. I didn't sleep for a long time, just listened to my mp3 player and stared at the dark ceiling.

I dreamed about Edward, of course. I dreamed about his hands, though, which seemed strange. It was a very erotic dream, but all I could see was the elegant machining of his angular wrists, the contradiction of delicate ligaments and tender skin on such large manly hands. I dreamed of his hands on the tire iron, then touching my face, my shoulders, my breasts. His touch was as light as feathers brushing across my over-heated skin.

And then it was morning and I was waking up, my breathing harsh and rapid.

I listened to KNX News Radio while I got dressed for school and chose my clothes according to the weather report. It was gloomy and gray outside, which in L.A. generally means one thing. Winter. Of course, having grown up shuttling between the mountains of Northern California and Phoenix, I found the idea of winter in La-La Land laughable, but it still meant a sweater and a jacket, maybe even a hat. If it wasn't already raining at eight in the morning it probably wouldn't rain at all but it still might be chilly. I rooted around in my closet for a hat but all I found besides a straw sun hat was "Rocky" that Alice had made for me last year. It would be warm. I jammed it on over my braided hair and headed out into the early gray.

After taking a picture of the slashed tire for my records I spent an hour getting a new tire and having the old spare returned to its cradle under the truck. Next I swung by Pearl Paint. I planned to just get some more gesso but I realized it wouldn't hurt to get another pad of cold press watercolor paper and more raw umber. I wanted that antique look, and umber mixed with some acrylic medium as a glaze would give me that appearance.

It was nearly eleven by the time I reached the 300 studio, where all the Junior painting students had studio spaces. The studio was one huge high-ceilinged hall with skylights and a labyrinth of painting "cubicles." Each 10' x 15' space was partitioned off by a single seven foot wall and a line of tape on the floor. My space was against the far wall, so I had two walls, making a corner. One side of my space was open to the walkway and one side was open to Jessica's space. The black line from my conte was still on the floor, though it looked like Jessica had tried to scuff some of it out. On one wall I had a long drapery that I had used in a painting last semester, the other wall was used as a giant pin-board of images for paintings: sketches, photos, odd bits of metal, paper, and plants I picked up on my walks around Exposition Park. My easel and an old armchair I found on the curb were joined by a pile of MDF boards for painting and a rickety wood cabinet.

I had a bagel and coffee in hand from the campus coffee kiosk that I passed on my way from the parking lot and was awkwardly toting my art purchases under my arm. Everything was slipping and I half-ran, half-waddled into my space, flinging everything except my coffee down on the little cabinet before it all came loose and fell out of my arms. I squeaked in surprise when I realized Edward was already there, lounging in my threadbare armchair.

He was dressed the way I had seen him before, boots, jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket, and he was reading a book. He set it down as I collected myself and I could see the binding. Thoreau. That figured. I'd heard of _Walden_, of course, but I had certainly never cracked the cover.

I just stared at the book and he stared at me while I caught my breath. I wasn't expecting him to be there already and I wasn't quite composed enough to meet his eyes.

"Nice squirrel," Edward said flatly, and I blushed as I realized I was wearing Rocky. I yanked the furry ear-flap hat off and tossed it on the cabinet where it glared at me with its beady black button eyes. Traitorous little squirrel. I turned back to Edward.

"Thanks. What are you doing here? You didn't call!" I tried to sound brisk and cheery and unself-conscious about wearing a squirrel hat but it felt all accusing.

Edward shrugged, his black t-shirt rippling distractedly. "Jasper brought me over," he said. "He showed me your spot and I thought I'd just wait for you."

"Have you been waiting long?" I busied myself puttering about, putting the jug of gesso next to my paint box and getting out a sharpie.

"No, not long. I had my book." He stood and watched over my shoulder as I wrote on the plastic jug.

"Keep your thieving donkey-ass hands off -- property of Swan," he read out loud. I blushed to hear my own goofy version of foul language recited calmly in Edward's silken voice. Especially the 'donkey' part. Edward lifted an eyebrow at me. "Isn't donkey-ass redundant?"

I just gaped at him for a moment before the gears moved and I realized what he meant, donkey and ass being synonymous. I giggled stupidly and tried to cover my embarrassment by returning my attention to my paints.

"Is stealing paint a big problem here?" Edward asked when it became clear I wasn't going to speak.

"Um, it's gesso and just yesterday someone stole mine, so yeah, I guess." It was strange, since I kept all sorts of things in my space, we all did, and nothing had been stolen before. My cabinet had a lock on it, but all I kept in there were things like my laptop when I went to painting class, things a thief might sell. But gesso?

I sipped my coffee and turned to Edward. "Do you want some bagel?" He gave a casual shrug of assent and I rummaged around in my paint box until I found a palette knife. Wiping it on the leg of my jeans, I used the thin but edgeless blade to hack the bagel in two equal parts. I held half out to him, licking stray cream cheese off my finger. He looked at the bagel doubtfully, then gingerly took it from me and examined it.

"It doesn't have girl cooties," I said. He shook his head and shrugged. He took a bite and returned to the armchair, chewing. I ate the other half, sitting on the floor.

"I just wasn't expecting you to use a paint-covered knife to cut it. Is that sanitary?"

I shrugged. "A little heavy metal poisoning never hurt anyone." Edward froze with the bagel nearly in his mouth. I laughed. "Kidding. The paint is dry, it can't hurt you." He gave me a withering glare and bit into the bagel.

"Did you replace that tire?" he asked after he had swallowed a bite.

"Mm-hum. First thing this morning."

"Good." The silence between us was filled only with the sounds of the giant fans pulling the fumes from the studio. I ate quietly, thinking about having Edward here in front of me, all to myself. I was more than a little nervous. Then he spoke again.

"So where are you from, Bella?"

"What makes you think I'm not from here?" I countered, trying not to stare at him. Everyone asks that question in L.A.

"Because no one is _from_ L.A." I could hear the laugh behind his serious words.

I snorted. "In a city of something like 14 million people I'm supposed to believe no one is from here? Did Iowa empty out?"

"So you're a native?" he asked with tangible disbelief.

"No, I'm from Phoenix by way of Auburn." I ducked my head.

"Auburn?"

"Little town north of Sacramento. Ever driven to Tahoe?"

"Yes."

"Then you've driven through Auburn. I only lived in Auburn for my last two years of high school, and then I came down here." I popped the last bite of bagel in my mouth and stood up, dusting my hands off on my jeans.

"So you're not from L.A. at all but you think it's a stupid question?"

I sighed. "It's just ... that's what everyone asks."

"That's because no one is from L.A, just like I said." He looked smug.

"So you're from Santa Barbara?"

He froze, mid-chew, and stared at me. "How did you know that?"

"Because Emmett is from Santa Barbara and you said you've known him since Junior High." He relaxed and I cursed myself. I didn't want to remind him that I knew so much about Emmett. I already knew more about Emmett than I really wanted to. I turned away before Edward could get into more reminiscences about Emmett and how well I knew him.

"Um, it's going to take a moment for me to get set up, so just make yourself comfortable.

He returned to his book. It was weirdly quiet in the studio, because it was so early. It was rare to see anyone in the painting department before noon on a weekend. The only classes that met on Friday were senior seminars and beginning courses, so the juniors wouldn't be trickling in until after a bright and early noontime.

After hanging up my jacket and sweater I jacked my mp3 into the little speakers I kept in my cabinet and turned on some low soothing music. Something that I wouldn't find distracting, something that wouldn't get Edward's toes tapping. I pulled out my paint tubes and arranged them, and checked that I already had water for my paint can. Edward turned a page. He was very still, his head bent intently over the book.

I looked around and decided to do some sketching to loosen up. I clipped a piece of newsprint to the drawing board I kept on my easel. I pulled my can of pencils and charcoals close to the edge of the cabinet, within easy reach.

I quickly blocked in the shape of his head and shoulders, the curve of the back of his neck and the shape of his hair, and then drew the long sweep of his jaw, the indentation just below his ear. I could see the muscles in his jaw move a little as if he were ingesting the words as he read them. I roughed out his classical nose, long and straight, and the dark curious line of his strong brows. I lightly shadowed the hollow of his cheek and the sensual curl of his broad lips. His eyes were difficult, since he was looking down. It nearly looked as if he were asleep, his long lashes shadowing his cheeks. I sighed at those lashes. Edward looked up.

"Are you ready to start?" he asked and I must have looked puzzled.

"Um, yeah, I've... I've already started." I chewed my lip and squinted at him. His eyes seemed lighter in the diffused light of the painting studio.

His eyebrows lifted. "Oh." He looked down at his shirt. His jacket, I only now noticed, was behind the chair. "I thought you'd want me to take my shirt off..."

"Um, you can, but only if you won't get cold." I was a little chilly in my long-sleeved t-shirt but I wanted to be free to move as I drew.

He didn't answer, just set down his book again and peeled off his shirt. He put it on the arm of the chair and turned back to me.

"How do you want me?" he asked. I froze, slowly turning red as I stared blatantly at his nipples. _How do I want you? Edward with a dollop of whipped cream,_ I thought manically.

I ripped my eyes from his bare chest and found Edward looking calmly at me. There was a tiny hint of a smile around his mouth. He was asking a question. What was the question? I searched backwards until I recalled his words. I forced the kinky connotations out of my head and responded with a straight face.

"For now, put your head back. Relax." He did as I asked and his head lolled back on the chair. His eyelids lowered until they were nearly shut and he watched me as I got out a piece of cold press I'd gessoed last week. I clipped it to the board and began to sketch out his head and chest.

"So, why art?" he asked.

"Hum?" I measured the length of his shoulder and compared it to his head.

"I'm sorry. Should I be quiet?" he asked contritely.

"You can talk, just don't move," I warned, giving him a stern look.

"Oh." He was quiet for a while. His breathing was the only motion. I considered his looks. An angel, but not an innocent, a Greek god but ... not Adonis, too namby-pamby. Edward was strong, not just eye candy.

"What made you decide to go to Art School?" he tried again. I strangled my first impulse to react in anger and realized it was a simple question. I had just heard it too many times. Family, friends, and even mere acquaintances made judgments on the choice I had made to study painting, and a disapproving tone came through in every "discussion" about my chosen profession. Their seemingly innocuous questions were just a way for them to let me know I had made poor choices about my life. Only my mother never questioned my choice.

"Being an artist is the only thing I ever wanted to do." It was the truth, although in a very abbreviated form.

"I can understand that," Edward murmured. I drew him in silence for a while longer. I had a vision of him surrounded by flaming wings.

"Is it weird to have naked people in your class every day?" he asked in a curious tone, and the image of wings faded. I paused and chewed the end of my pencil while my mind changed gears.

"At first it's a little strange and then you get used to it. You don't really see the nude models as people after awhile, just a walking, talking still-life." Edward shook a little. "Are you cold?" I asked, worried that he was shivering.

"No," he said, and I could hear the laughter in his voice. "So I'm just a fancy bowl of fruit?"

I didn't want to embarrass him. I reminded myself that he hadn't done this willingly. "Yeah, that's about right." A hunky bowl of man-fruit. With a really big banana. I kept my face carefully neutral as I drew the wedge of negative space between his head and shoulder. Edward seemed to digest this.

"So no one's staring at my ..." his head twitched towards his lap and I dropped my pencil. I fetched it and straightened up with a smile.

"They're staring at all of you, Edward, even your penis. They just give it the same attention as your big toe," I lied cheerily. I tried to sound nonchalant about the monster in his pants but I didn't know if he believed me.

I returned to drawing. He could be an angel with that perfect face but something about his eyes gave lie to the angelic features. It could just be drowsiness but there was something sultry and knowing in his expression.

"So this would be more erotic if I took my shoes off?" He was teasing me now. Did he know how much tumult he had caused with the male-appreciating students when he dropped his robe? If I let him be funny, this would degenerate quickly and I'd never get any painting done today.

"Hold still," I commanded, and his face relaxed though the hint of a smile remained. If he was an angel, dripping sexiness like he did, I was doomed. I sighed and turned to prepare my palette.

For the next hour and a half I painted steadily while Edward watched me through lowered lashes. I quickly captured the sardonic curl of Edward's lips, to my complete amazement, and then struggled to retain that freshness through the rest of his face. I let myself linger on the creamy-skinned breadth of Edward's chest and shoulders, only faintly marked by dark reddish hair on his pale pink nipples. I wondered idly if his skin was as silky as it looked. His relaxed pose was strangely sensual and I tried to turn my attention to less arousing parts of his anatomy. I wasn't finding any. Every plane of Edward seemed sexy.

I chewed my lip as I looked at the reddish tones of the hair on his chest and head and worked in a little more alizarin. His hair began to look nearly bloody, fiery-red. The way his auburn locks stood out from his head in a shock made it more flame-like, licking upward.

I left the background dark, I would decide later what to paint behind him.

As I painted, I heard the noises of other students coming into the studio, the rustlings and murmurs and occasional bangs. The "morning" crew was more subdued. In the evenings the studio would be loud and raucous with music and bawdy jokes. Between the early hour and being in the back and out of the way, Edward and I were left undisturbed.

It was nearing two when I rolled my shoulders to loosen up. The Edward part of the painting was done. "Hey, Edward, I'm stopping for a moment. Why don't you take a break, walk around?"

Edward stood up and seemed to suck the air out of my space. I was super-conscious of his bare-chested body only three feet from me. I turned away and busied myself with rinsing my brushes in my water can and patting them dry with a towel while he picked up his t-shirt and slipped it on. I'd wash my brushes more thoroughly before I headed home at the end of the day, but as long as the acrylic didn't dry in them, they'd be fine.

"Is there a place to get a smoke break?"

I gave him directions and then headed to the vending machine cubby for another shot of caffeine. I returned and studied the painting I had been working on. The look of Edward's eyes in the painting was so sensual, so direct, they seemed to look right through me. I let myself stare into those green depths.

Shaking off the lust it roused in me, I set that painting aside and put a new board on the easel. By the time Edward returned I had covered the fresh surface with a layer of burnt umber for a background color.

Without a word Edward peeled off his jacket and shirt and deposited them behind the armchair. He was facing away from me and I could see the ripple of his back as the shirt passed over his head. On his muscular shoulder blade was a tattoo, larger than my outstretched hand could have covered. This must be what he was covering with makeup when he modeled for my class, since most of the professors didn't want tats on the models. The tattoo was an open book. Instead of words on the pages, there was a tangle of geometric lines and cherry blossoms. It was strange. I wanted to touch the book, run my fingers along the maze to find my way through, like a child might trace words.

I cleared my throat. "This time, I'd like you to stand up against the drapery."

Then Edward turned to face me and I found myself staring into his collarbone for an instant before dragging my eyes up to his face. With a confidence I didn't feel I stepped up to him and pointed where I wanted him to go.

I fought back the inexplicable fear of touching him _he's just a man, just a man,_ and took his left hand and laid it over his other shoulder. His skin was cool and silky, softer than any man's skin I'd ever touched. He watched me under lowered lids as I arranged his hand and then turned his head the way I wanted. I stepped back and looked him over. Definitely an angel. Not some gentle guardian but a fierce and relentless protector.

"Um, I don't think I can stay in this pose very long," he said softly, breaking the illusion. I smiled.

"I'll paint fast," I promised.

I did. By now I knew what colors I wanted and the paint swept across the board as if caressing the ripples of his lean muscles. I was reminded of the sinewy muscularity of him, forgotten since last week. I drank in the sight of his naked torso, his angelic face with the devilish eyes.

While I worked, Edward watched me. Even when I didn't meet his gaze, I could feel his eyes on me, burning into me. When I did paint his face, his heavy lidded eyes, I felt scorched as though my soul had looked into the sun. I wondered if the lust was visible on my face, if he could read it like a book. He seemed relaxed even in his intensity, his eyes focused on my face or my hands as I laid down the strokes of paint.

I had roughed in everything and was starting to fill in details when Jessica came stomping around the corner, ear buds in. She glanced towards me with venom in her eyes, probably still pissed at me from yesterdays little incident. Then she stumbled to a halt halfway in her work area as her gaze slid to a stop on Edward, leaning shirtless and sultry against my wall. Jessica's eyes and mouth opened wide and she made a strangled noise in her throat. Edward gave Jessica a brief look then returned his eyes to me.

I threw Jessica a cool glare before turning back to my work. "Hey Jess," I said, interrupting her astonished ogling.

Behind me I heard Jessica shuffling and clearing her throat but ignored it. Finally she spoke but I didn't turn to face her. "Bella, you have a class model here?" I could tell she was trying to sound casual but her tone was annoyed and tart. Edward's eyes flicked to her and then back to me. Although he didn't move, I could see a tension come into his posture.

"Yes, Jess, Edward agreed to model for me outside of class."

"Hm, maybe I will have to schedule him for a private modeling session."

Edward's shoulders tensed minutely but he evenly replied, "I'm sorry, I'm all booked up for now, and my prices are high." I tried to cover up my laugh with a cough and nearly choked on my own saliva. When I had recovered, Jessica was asking Edward for his 'going rates' in a suggestive tone.

"Edward," I said, interrupting Jessica's thinly veiled insinuations that he charged in sexual favors, "why don't you take a break, shake it out, and we'll resume in a moment." He pulled on his shirt and jacket and walked away, flexing the stiffness out of his arms. When he was gone I turned on Jessica.

"Leave him alone, Jessica. He's _my_ model."

"If you hired him, I can hire him," she said petulantly.

"He's too expensive for you," I told her. "Besides, you're an abstract painter, what would you do with a model?" A bad abstract painter, I thought. Definitely no use for a model.

She gave me a smug look. "I can think of some things."

"Ugh. You're so crass." Jessica looked over my shoulder at the painting on the easel.

"And you're not? Come on, Bella, it's obvious he's just here so you can fuck him."

"Excuse me?" I spluttered. "It's not like that. I don't know what goes on in your cramped little brain but I don't see him as a piece of meat."

"Don't you? It's not fair! You get all the hot guys around here. First you were dating Emmett, then you had Mike chasing after you, now that model ...ungh. What are you doing? Because it certainly isn't your looks," she said as she eyed my old jeans with a sneer. I felt my rage rising. I didn't come to art school to be a fashion victim.

"Maybe the guys hang around because I treat them like _people_ instead of sausage biscuits. Look, Edward's nervous enough about modeling without you drooling on him like a Saint Bernard. Keep a lid on it or I'll put acrylic in your eyeliner."

Jessica's plain face twisted with malice. "Bitch. You already broke the mobile I was working on for Multimedia, with all your throwing my stuff around yesterday. What got up your butt? Did you run out of meds?"

"No, you twat, I got sick of your crap messing up my space," I said, barely suppressing the urge to smack her.

"You weren't using all of your space!" she said indignantly.

"Just because I'm not using all of it does not mean you can come and throw your crappy-ass art into _my_ space!"

Jessica stopped and glared at me. "What the fuck are you saying?"

"Just -- stay out of my business!" I wasn't quite yelling, but my voice was just a shade below that.

"Me?" Jessica shouted back, her face turning red. "You started this shit!"

We just stared at each other. I felt I was going to lose control and yank her curly long hair out by the roots if I didn't get out of there. My hands were shaking hard. I grabbed my jacket and my cigs and took off for the Lounge. I didn't look back to see what Jessica was doing. She could coat herself in lard and call herself Joseph Beuys for all I cared. I stomped past Edward as he was meandering down the hall.

"Hey, where..."

"C'mon," I muttered and pawed his arm as I went past. He didn't respond but fell into step beside me. I stomped down the stairs and out to the gravel corner of the garden. I was a few steps ahead of Edward by the time I flopped down on a bench and lit a clove with still shaking hands.

I watched silently as Edward pulled the pouch from his jacket pocket and smoothly hand-rolled a cigarette. His presence was distracting me from my anger, soothing me with just the calm and measured motion of his fingers. Watching as smoke curled out from between his lips, I returned to the idea of him as a fiery angel. It seemed familiar on some level but I couldn't place the reference. Burning and angels ...

"You're upset," Edward commented, interrupting my reverie. I looked up at his face and looked away quickly. Looking into those intensely beautiful eyes without the excuse of a paintbrush in my hand was proving to be too much for me.

"No fucking shit." I toyed with my cigarette for a moment before taking a long drag and letting the harshly sweet smoke grate through my throat. Edward didn't respond and I felt bad. I huffed with impatience at myself. "I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you."

"I didn't think you were. Is it the girl with the curly hair?" I glanced up at him before returning my gaze to my cigarette. He didn't look annoyed, just calm and focused. Focused on me.

"Yeah, Jessica. She's an art poser."

"She's a what?" he asked, humor touching his tone.

"She's a poser. She's not really about the art. She's about the idea of art school. Something to make mommy and daddy freak out like when she comes home with a girlfriend sophomore year or a new tattoo," I bitched, waving my clove around for emphasis. Edward's full lips quirked up in a smile.

"Ah, so tattoos and homosexuality are signs that she's not a 'real' artist?" he asked rhetorically.

I remembered that Edward had a tattoo. So did I for that matter but I wasn't about to admit it just now. Emmett did, too, a big-ass Chinese five-toed dragon on his arm. As for being gay, I really wasn't interested in what other people did in the bedroom. For all I knew, Edward was gay. It would be so fucking typical for me if he was gay. I waved my arm impatiently. "Fuck, no. Jessica just does stuff like that because she thinks that's what an artist is supposed to do. For her it's a fashion, not a way of life. It's inauthentic. Besides, she's a lousy painter and an obnoxious person. I hate that." I tugged on my braid nervously.

"Which do you hate more?" he asked lightly, flicking ash. His voice was light but his eyes bored into me like he would extract the meaning directly from my brain.

"Both. I can respect a talented artist who is an ass, and I can enjoy a lousy artist with a great personality, but to have neither talent nor a redeeming personality is just a tragedy."

I wasn't trying to be funny, but Edward laughed, a surprisingly throaty sound. A shiver of something primal ran through me at the sound. I turned back to him and just stared, mesmerized.

His laugh faded into a low rumble and he smirked at me, his green eyes glowing. "So you have friends who are jerks but fantastic artists?"

"No, my friends are interesting _and_ make cool art, but I can tolerate people who aren't both. What's so funny?" I squinted at him through the smoke rising from my cig as he chuckled again.

"So I guess that means you think Jasper and Emmett are good artists?" he asked, shooting me a sharp look. Damn. I'd have to be careful around this man. He wouldn't let me get away with any shit.

"Yeah, don't you?" I deflected.

"Me? I don't know anything about art," he said, parrying.

"So why do you want one of my paintings?" I pried.

Edward shrugged. "I know what I like." I felt a little thrill. _He liked my paintings._

"That's all anyone really knows," I said honestly.

Edward nodded and seemed to consider that. We fell into silence, smoking. I stared dumbly at his hands, contemplating the graceful and unselfconscious gestures he made as he lifted the cigarette to his lips. He seemed ethereal, unreal, angelic, yet I felt completely carnal around him. I wondered if my Catholic father would be horrified. A demon in angel's garb.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly.

I sighed and glanced up at him. The ten-million dollar question. _I'm thinking about how you are far too perfect to be here with me, how you are some kind of super-human being sent here for me to admire, worship and idolize in paint. _I managed to get my tongue under control before any of that slipped out.

"I'm thinking about allegories and paradox." Edward drew back, his posture showing surprise. I didn't let my eyes get above the zipper of his jacket. If I looked in his grass-green eyes I might say something I didn't want him to hear.

"In writing?" he asked.

"No, in art. Allegories are easier to establish in painting than in writing. Allegorical painting has been in practice since Ancient Egypt." I stopped abruptly, feeling like I was regurgitating one of Professor Banner's seminars where we had to read Foucault. Ugh, dead French dudes made my hair sizzle and here I was spouting off on allegories to the angelically beautiful model.

"Sorry, I sound like a pretentious art student." Better to sound like a pretentious artist? Ah, hell. If I stayed I might say something I would be embarrassed about. It was better if I kept my mouth shut. I stubbed out my clove and stood up. "Take your time, I'm heading back."

"Hey, Bella? Don't worry about Curly Girl. Just ignore her." I nodded at his advice and walked back into the building, leaving him in the chill.

I walked back slowly, staring at the floor tiles beneath my Cons until I was back in my own little cubby. Jessica was still there, fussing over the pieces of the mobile I had destroyed. Edward returned a few minutes later and we resumed the pose. Jessica sighed a few times and once made a comment in our general direction about wanting to have her own personal model, or harem of models. I bit my tongue and followed Edward's advice. I ignored her. She didn't exist.

I painted for a few more hours. The pose against the drapery was followed by a wonderful pose of him sitting in the armchair twisted to his side while he read his book.

At four, Jessica, maybe realizing that Edward wasn't going to talk to her, stalked off. As her shoes click-click-clicked out of the studio, Edward glanced up at me and sighed.

"Thank god," he breathed.

"What?" I said, still painting.

"I thought she'd never leave. I was beginning to think she'd follow me home or something." His voice was low to avoid being overheard, even over the growing din of the studio.

"I thought you were the one telling me to just ignore her," I reminded him.

"I was ignoring her, you were ignoring her, but she wasn't ignoring back." Edward resumed the pose and I painted a little longer.

"Um, can you model again tomorrow?" I mumbled, desperately hopeful.

"Yeah, sure. I'm free. Is tomorrow afternoon alright?" he asked.

"Yes, that would be perfect."

"Can I ask a favor?"

"Sure." I said, worried what he might want.

"Can we do it somewhere else? Maybe somewhere without an... audience?" he didn't look up but I could hear both chagrin and humor in his voice.

"Um, sure, I can do some sketching at my house." I was pretty sure Alice would have a shit-fit if I painted in the living room but sketching should be okay. I could work from sketches. I'd just have to remember to take some gessoed paper with me and my drawing kit.

Jessica re-appeared a short while later with something that smelled like falafel. It made my stomach growl. Edward and I continued to ignore her, and she continued to stare surreptitiously at Edward while she fiddled with her wrecked mobile.

At five, Jasper appeared. He stood back and took in the scene. Shirtless Edward, my painting, a clearly lustful Jessica.

"Hey, Bells! Edward, I'm ready to leave, did you want to catch a ride with me or does Bella still need you?" he asked with a jocular tone. I smiled gratefully. He was trying to dispel the tension and I knew it. I stretched and began rinsing my brushes.

"No, I've reached a stopping point for today. Edward, if you want to head out..."

"Hey, would you two like to join me and Alice? We were going to get a pizza." I looked to Edward questioningly. He shrugged. I knew if he was game, I was too. I'd do anything to be close to him. Pathetic. I turned back to Jasper.

"Make it the Coop and it's a deal," I said. Jasper nodded. After a short discussion, Jasper said he'd call in a pick-up order for an extra large with eggplant, meatballs, and green peppers. Edward resisted the idea of eggplant but I told him to grow a pair and pick them off if he couldn't stand them. He glared at me but relented. I promised to pick up some beer on the way home and we'd eat at Alice's and my house.

As Edward was shrugging into his jacket he leaned in so close to me I thought for a wild moment he was about to kiss me. Instead he whispered in my ear, "Thanks for ... moving the venue."

Edward left with Jasper and I got cleaned up. If the Coop was in regular form for a Friday evening, they might have our pizza in three hours, but the wait would be worth it. Big, floppy, greasy, and oh-so-perfect pizza.

True to form, even though I left at least twenty minutes after Jasper and Edward and stopped at Trader Joe's on the way home to pick up beer, I got to the house before them. Alice was already home, warned by Jasper's call that he was bringing Edward over. She was cleaning up stray bits of imaginary fluff and bringing out plates and napkins, arranging everything on the coffee table. I asked why we were not eating at the dining table.

She shrugged. "More casual on the floor," she said and danced off to put on some music. It was something strange and Emo and totally Alice. I shrugged. After putting the beer in the fridge to chill and stashing my squirrel hat with a promise to myself to find something less embarrassing, I helped Alice with lighting candles and tidying up the house. Mostly this consisted of me removing my panties from the bathroom. I didn't want to think about Jasper, or more especially Edward, finding those. It was a good thing I got home first.

Edward and Jasper showed up about an hour later, bearing a huge pizza. Edward griped about the rude service, and Jasper and I assured him that was their typical service. He didn't complain any more once we were sitting on the living room floor, scooping huge slices of pizza out of the box. He moaned and closed his eyes as the first greasy bite slid down his throat.

I smiled but it was Jasper who said "I told you it would be worth the wait. See what I mean?" Edward nodded, his eyes still closed.

Alice ate her pizza daintily-- well, as daintily as one can eat greasy floppy New York-style pizza-- while snuggled into Jasper's side. I listened to Jasper and Alice talk about weekend plans and classes and music, with Edward occasionally making a comment, while I picked off the eggplant to eat it separately from the rest of my pizza.

I felt too awkward to say much around Edward and mostly just watched him eat. It was hard to keep my eyes of him, the way his long fingers wrapped around the beer bottle. It felt surreal to see him in a casual setting, doing something so mundane as eat a slice of pizza. He caught me looking at him and gestured that I had sauce on my chin. I wiped my face, but blushed so hard the sauce might have disappeared. Once again I felt awkward beside Edward's easy poise.

Soon we were sitting around an empty box, with our beers still in our hands. I was leaning against the loveseat with Edward lounging on the floor beside me while Jasper and Alice sat leaning against the sofa, on the other side of the coffee table. From time to time Japer would turn and brush his lips across the top of Alice's head, or she would stroke her hand across his chest or thigh, and I would feel oddly uncomfortable. It wasn't PDA that bothered me so much as my sitting near Edward while it was going on. Some part of me wanted to be doing that with the angelic man beside me. I wanted his lips on my hair, my hand on his thigh. I sighed. Edward looked at me curiously.

"Long day," I said.

We sat up late, talking about nothing, everything. The National debt, music (Alice didn't like Tom Waits. Who knew?), Emmett's new fixation with knitting, and of course, Edward's modeling gig.

Edward repeated what I had said about the model's body simply being a still-life and at Jasper's snort he looked concerned. I tried to look innocent.

"It is," I defended. "The model is just a collection of three-dimensional forms, like a basket of fruit."

Jasper rolled his eyes. "I've _been_ in life drawing, Bella. There's a fruit and then there's _fruit_." He held out his hands suggestively, cupping them in front of his chest and Alice swatted his arm playfully. Jasper turned on her and kissed her roughly, laughing. Edward turned quizzical eyes to me.

"So is using a model just an excuse for a bunch of horny art students to stare at my ... basket?" he asked.

"Of course not," I snorted. "It's about learning the human form, the way light reflects on skin, the way the body fits together..."

"Then why doesn't the model wear clothing?" he asked logically enough. Considering that we had finished off all the beer, and were working our way through a bottle of wine, I was impressed he could be this logical.

"If I wanted to draw clothes, I wouldn't have to get a model. I could just paint a drapery."

"So it _is_ an excuse to look at naked people," he persisted.

"Most models, Edward, are not a treat to look at naked." I thought of our latest, bearded lady model and shivered.

"Well," he said archly, "I am sorry to be a trial for your eyes."

"I'm sure you're not a problem," Jasper laughed, finally disengaged from Alice's mouth. "Did I ever tell you about the model we had with rope burns on his thighs? That was creepy."

Relieved, I shared my stories of the bearded MacKenna and other strange models, and the conversation became less personal and sexually charged.

Hours later, I yawned and realized it was past midnight. I was beat. Jasper said he and Edward should be heading home. I stood up and collected plates and napkins. Edward made to help me but Jasper waved him down. He followed me into the kitchen with the pizza box.

I rinsed the plates and put them in the sink while Jasper folded up the box and crammed it in our trash can.

"You like Edward," he said softly. I glanced out towards the living room. Edward was getting up and heading towards the hall.

I looked back at the plates in the sink, answering Jasper without looking at him. "Sure. He seems cool."

Edward passed the kitchen and I realized he was heading to the bathroom. Good thing I put away my panties. I was doing a decent enough job embarrassing myself without my lingerie laying about.

Jasper waited a moment until he was sure Edward had gone into the bathroom, and then said, "Yeah, Edward's cool. Just ... don't fall for him, okay, Bells? He's ... not going to be in town long." I got the feeling that wasn't what Jasper really wanted to say but I didn't ask. I wondered why Jasper would be warning me off his friend. I wasn't planning on falling for him. I'd never fallen for anyone. Even the guys I had gotten into bed with had never really been more than fuck buddies.

"Don't worry about me, Jasper," I said lightly. "I'm bulletproof." Edward was fascinating and beautiful but he had shown no interest in me. Besides, I found it unlikely I would be touched more deeply than lustful fascination. I had my priorities after all.

XXX

**Umber: Earth pigment commonly used in painting and drawing. Usually baked (as in Burnt Umber) or left raw (Raw Umber) Umber gives cool earth tones, as opposed to Sienna which give warmer, reddish tones.**

**Medium: In acrylics, a medium is a colorless polymer extender for giving a translucent or transparent finish to acrylic paint. Some mediums have additions like fibers, sand, or have stiffeners which give dimensionality to the painted surface. In this case, Bella is using a medium to give the painting a translucency and shine which mimics the effects of oil painting. There are also mediums used for oil painting, but they are significantly different in composition and use.**

XXX

**A/N: Love and thanks to MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly for making sure everything makes sense and rearranging my comma use. IG is working on a banner using a sketch I made of Rob. If only I could get him to model for me instead of using photos... well, I wouldn't be writing at all.**

**Please give me some feedback. I try to answer all questions and comments. I haven't figured out a good response to "love it, update soon," but as soon as I do I will reply to those reviews, too. **


	6. 6 Kirchner

**SM owns Twilight. The story is mine: I lived it, I keep it.**

**Thank you to everyone who keeps coming back, who reviews, who sends pms. Sorry these chapters are taking so long, but they are long, so ...**

**Love and kisses to MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly, my wonder-betas. **

**BTW, this story is entirely BPOV (if you haven't already noticed) and although there will be lemons coming, they are not coming yet. Be patient.**

**XXX**

ASC 6

Kirchner

Edward was reclining naked on the floor, a slight smirk on his lush lips. His green eyes were watching me as I slowly moved in on him. I leaned closer and closer, inhaling the warm man-smell from his body, and then my hands were on him. I was abruptly stroking my fingertips over his long taut muscles. His pale skin was like satin over stone. He quivered at my touch, and as my hand passed over his body, flames sprouted from my fingers, burning him. His smile widened as his skin flared and crumbled to ash, exposing fiery wings underneath.

I woke up to sunlight coming through the window and groaned. Just a dream. It was so vivid. Unfortunately after three sessions, one just yesterday, I was all too aware of the visual details of Edward's body. I can't help being a visual person but at that moment I wanted to be more ... _tactile_.

Lust was no stranger to me and I wasn't beyond satisfying that lust, by myself or with someone else. There were a few guys I had dated or slept with. Sometimes even both. I shied away from anything serious. Once in awhile I had a guy who wanted something more from me and I found some excuse to call it off. I never talked about "the relationship" or brought up china patterns. I never wanted to hold someone's slobbery baby. I never so much as left my toothbrush in someone's bathroom. I figured I was genetically not meant for love and monogamy and the two point five children and a picket fence.

Love wasn't part of my plan. Fortunately I had never been any closer to it than heavy lust or passionate friendship.

Edward was definitely in the lust category but I had no idea what was going on in his head. He was aloof and beautiful and I was an idiot whenever he was around. I was hopeless but I had my plan. I wasn't stupid enough to risk losing my model by making a move on him. Art trumped lust any day.

After showering and eating a little breakfast I prepped for the afternoon. I had my sketch kit, paper, and a drawing board. I dug around in my closet until I found the portable easel my mother had given me when I started college. I set it up in a corner of the living room. The light was better there than in my bedroom. Besides, having Edward in my bedroom, lying in my bed, seemed a little too much even for me. I might just pounce on him. Then he'd probably leave and I'd be screwed for the scholarship.

I did some laundry, cleaned the kitchen, and made myself some breakfast. I was just finishing up the dishes when I heard a rumble, like thunder, an unusual sound on my quiet street on a sunny California day. I realized it was a motorcycle and went to see what was happening. I opened the front door as the roar cut off. I looked out to see Edward kicking the stand down on a motorcycle in my driveway. A huge black motorcycle, beautifully framed by the massive red bougainvillea on James' side of our driveway. Edward unbuckled his helmet and, setting it on the fuel tank, swung off the seat. He bounded across the walk and up onto the porch, smiling.

I'd seen the leather jacket, the boots, the wild hair, and thought it was a fashion statement, but the motorcycle somehow made it all look right.

My mouth was hanging open and I was surely drooling. The lust kicked up a notch. I've always been a sucker for a guy on a motorcycle, which explained how I ended up spending two months with Mike Newton sophomore year. He was passably cute and rode a Honda sport but was dumb as a rock.

"Hey," Edward said, the glee in his eyes calming at my slack-jawed expression. I snapped my mouth shut.

"Nice bike," I said idiotically.

He swung his head back to look at it and scratched the back of his neck. "Thank you. It looked like a perfect day for riding." Edward turned back to me with a childlike smile.

"Um, is it a ... Harley?" I hazarded, and the disappointment on his face told me I'd guessed wrong.

"No, it's a Triumph."

I ushered him in and as I closed the door behind us I said "Do you have something against Harleys?"

"Not at all, except everyone and their dad rides a Harley. I like my Triumph."

I racked my brain, trying to figure out the importance of the Triumph, but all I was coming up with was an image of James Dean or someone in the 50's, leaning against a bike.

"Didn't James Dean ride a Harley?"

Edward tossed his jacket on a dining room chair and turned to me. "As far as I know, Dean never rode a motorcycle of any kind. A Triumph is classic. Marlon Brando rode a Triumph in _The Wild One_."

"Oh." Me, feeling stupid again. Unbelievable.

"Peter Fonda rode a Harley in _Easy Rider_," he said soothingly, offering me a bone.

I felt a little better. "It's a really nice bike." Edward's lips quirked into that lazy half-smile and I felt a warm glow seep through me. I stared at him stupidly.

"So," he said, his smile not fading in the least, his eyes still on me. "Where are we doing this?"

Good thing it wasn't my bedroom. I gestured him over to the sofa, where I'd already spread a plain black cloth for when he posed. I had my mp3 player hooked to the living room stereo, with my quirky mix playing -- the Legendary Shack Shakers, Pandelerium, Tom Waits.

Like yesterday, he stripped off his shirt, then I arranged Edward with his head laying back to expose his throat and his arms crossed over his chest. I adjusted the blinds and moved my easel until I had a good angle with indirect light coming across him from the left. The cool winter light was bright but not harsh, making the ends of his hair look tinted with gold, both on his head and his arms. I quickly blocked out his form, dwelling on the muscles of his lean arms, but my mind kept skidding back to the sight of him propping that huge bike and swinging his leg over it as he dismounted.

I cleared my throat and Edward raised an eyebrow at me.

"Um. So, Edward, Jasper said you got into the life modeling because of a bet?" I choked out, desperate to hear his voice, to be drawn out of my motorcycle-straddling and leather-clad fantasy.

He blushed and I found myself wondering about that. Why should he be embarrassed? "Yeah, I lost."

"What was the bet?" Edward shifted a little, then stilled with a guilty look at me, probably remembering he needed to hold still.

He muttered something, and when I asked him to repeat himself, he said softly, "I lost a poker hand."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, I've played against Jasper and Emmett and they're really good. That's how we got into ..." I turned away, not sure if I should go on, and looked down, letting my long hair fall across my face.

Of course Edward picked up on that. "How you got into ...?" he prompted. I looked up. He was studying me through slitted eyes.

"That's how Emmett and I ended up doing the performance video."

"Performance video?" he asked calmly.

"Yeah. Um, last year. Emmett and Jasper and I were in Multimedia class together and we had to do a video project. We decided to do an allegory on temptation, and ..."

Edward raised his eyebrows. Staring into those sultry green eyes I couldn't think, let alone dissemble.

"We did part of it _nude_." His gaze didn't change. He just looked steadily into my eyes.

"Oh," he said, with poorly feigned surprise, "_That_ video."

I blushed. "You already know about it."

Edward just nodded slowly, pressing his lips together.

"Have you... seen it?" Again, he nodded. I blushed more deeply. If Edward had seen it, he had seen ... well as much of me as I had seen of him. It was artfully done and beautifully lit, and it wasn't like we were humping or anything. In it I walked slowly across to Emmett and handed him an apple, wearing nothing but my brown hair straight down my back to my waist. The scars next to my left breast didn't show from the angle we'd shot and that was all I'd really cared about. Emmett had been just as naked as me.

"We might as well have just put it on YouTube. Everyone has seen the damned thing," I muttered. We had entered it in the student film festival competition, and it was accepted, so it was played on a theater screen for half the school. Out of a four minute video, the ten seconds of Emmett and me naked got all the attention. We didn't win a prize, but we did get some notoriety, Emmett for having a humongous member, and me for being his naked girlfriend.

"Was that when you started dating Emmett?" Edward asked, disturbing my mental self-pity.

"What? Oh, Emmett and I didn't really date, you know. Well, we did, but ... when we got to the kissing point it was just ..." I bit my lip, trying to explain. "I don't have a brother, but when I kissed Emmett, I imagine that's what it would have felt like. Emmett's sweet and he's good-looking, but every time we started getting romantic, we just started giggling. We never got much past that. We were laughing too hard." Emmett had a nice body, but there was no lustful spark there, just appreciation.

Edward looked intently at the wall, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows as if this bothered him. I went back to drawing, blushing all the way to my roots at my insane babbling.

A few minutes passed with only the junk yard percussion of Waits and the sound of my pencil on paper.

"Then why did you and Emmett tell everyone you were dating?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, studying Edward's neck as I spoke. "We tried it out, I guess, and it doesn't matter. I don't really care what most people think. If it makes things easier for them to imagine us getting naked because we were a couple, then that's fine by me."

"Wasn't it difficult to be nude with Emmett if you weren't ... intimate?" Edward seemed to be trying to be delicate about this subject. I turned my gaze up to Edward's. He was staring intently at me with a tiny frown.

"Is it hard to be nude in the life class?" I countered.

"Yes, but I'm getting used to it," he said. I nodded and he snorted a little.

"I really wasn't paying attention to Emmett, if that's what you're thinking. Emmett made me feel fine. He was naked, I was naked, no problem. Being naked in front of Jasper was a little tough."

"Jasper?" Edward's eyes widened.

"Who do you think was running the camera?" I moved on to drawing Edward's hands, such beautiful hands. I loved drawing hands, and his were especially ideal, large and long-fingered and delicate-skinned.

"I didn't think about that," he admitted.

"No one ever does." I had been more embarrassed about being undressed in front of Jasper, who had been fully dressed, than Emmett, even with his donkey dong. Even though I already knew most people never noticed the small scars on my ribcage, I felt self-conscious about them. Edward had no scars, his skin was perfect. "Is it easier to model for me since you've seen me nude, too?"

Edward shifted a moment before settling back into his pose. "I'm not nude now."

"Sure you are, under your clothes. Every one is," I snickered. Edward stared and I straightened my face. "You know what I mean. I've seen you in life class. You've seen me in a video. Are we even?"

"Yeah, I suppose so." Good, I thought.

I drew all afternoon, with a break at about four to allow Edward to stretch out his stiff muscles and have a smoke in the backyard. Feeling too awkward to sit on the step where just a week earlier we'd overheard Jasper and Alice's operatic sex episode, I wandered about the yard while I smoked, touching the bare branches of the small tree in the corner. I wasn't any good at gardening but I enjoyed being around all the greenery. Alice had a plot in the yard where she would soon plant summer veggies. From the corner of my eye I saw Edward watching me as I wandered the yard, my fingers drifting across the hibernating roses. I ignored him. I'd spent all day looking at him. I could let him look at me without staring back.

I remembered that he had seen me nude, on video. I had been captured for all eternity in my birthday suit. I concealed my blush by turning away and looking intently at the ground around the roses. I spotted a branch with a desiccated rose hip on the end that Alice had missed when she pruned. I reached down and plucked it. It was full and round and red, full of promise despite the dried stem. I stroked the firm globe and tucked it in my pocket. My clove was nearly gone, so I walked to the patio table and put it out in the ashtray.

"Ready for more?" I asked, still feeling shy.

Edward nodded and we returned to our drawing session. After all these drawings I was feeling like I had memorized Edward's chest. I had him lounge on the sofa, his head resting on his arms, his chest pressed into the cushions, and drew his back. His angled hips where his legs were twisted to hang off the sofa. Up the long snake curve of his spine. Along his broad shoulders to the tattoo of the wordless open book, with its lines of labyrinth and cherry blossoms. Over his shoulders to his neck, the tender skin rumpling as it disappeared under his clipped hair. His skin was smooth and flawless, just a sprinkling of faint freckles on the milky whiteness of his upper back. I took my time, enjoying the opportunity to study Edward without being observed in return. It was heavenly.

As I came back down his back, getting the subtle contour of his shoulder blades, I realized his ribcage was rising and falling in a slow and steady rhythm.

Was he sleeping?

"Edward?" I asked, barely above a whisper. He didn't answer, or even move. Quietly, I stood and set my pencil down. I crept closer, barely breathing.

"Edward?" Nothing. I was right over him, looking down at his tat, ink on silky skin. I wanted to touch him, maybe just to wake him up...

Instead I bent over, careful to hold my hair so it wouldn't brush against his bare skin, and let myself breathe in the scent of his skin. He smelled warm, like cotton and soap, with a trace of cigarette smoke lingering on him. It was a good smell, somehow. I went around the arm of the sofa and crouched down to look into his face. He was asleep alright, his eyes shut and his hair falling over his dark brows. His breathing whistled softly through his slightly parted lips. He was gorgeous.

I could have watched him forever. I wanted to reach out and touch those velvet-looking lips, trace the line of his jaw. I wondered if pressing my lips to his would wake him. Probably.

I told Jasper I wouldn't fall for Edward and I was being truthful. I really wasn't afraid of falling in _love_. I liked being around him, I liked looking at him, and I really wanted to lick every inch of his long gorgeous body, but the idea of getting emotionally entangled was laughable. I'd never loved anyone as much as myself. Priorities. Art came first, always.

If I was really being honest with myself, I was afraid. Edward had shot down Lauren's pass without a second thought and deep down I knew that Lauren was prettier than I am. I might be slim and I'd been told I had a decent ass and a nice mouth, but I had no illusions about being a beauty. The only man to ever call me beautiful was my Dad and he was obviously prejudiced.

I realized if Edward woke up and found me staring at him he'd think I was a major creeper, so with a silent sigh I straightened back up and returned to my easel.

I didn't draw, I just watched him for a few minutes. Then I realized I had to wake him up sometime.

"Edward!" I said sharply, and he jerked and turned his head to me.

"Umph. Sorry, I fell asleep. Was I snoring?" He yawned and blinked.

"Yeah, like a chain saw," I lied. "Look, we're losing the light. I think I've done as much as I can today. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah," he said, seeming surprised. He pushed himself off the sofa and stood stretching like a cat. I had to look away to keep from leaping across the coffee table and mauling him. When I looked up he had his shirt back on and was scratching the back of his neck. "What did you have in mind, Bella?"

"Um, what do you think of Chinese?" I asked.

An hour later we had food in little white boxes spread out on the coffee table and we shoveled food onto plates with our chopsticks. I'd poured us some wine from the party stash and we were seated on the floor. Alice being as much the party planner as she was meant we didn't have to use the cheap chopsticks Hu's provided, but used the fancy walnut wood chopsticks she had for special dinners. Edward was surprisingly deft with his chopsticks, picking hot peppers out of the Kung Pao Chicken.

"Hey, Mister Fuss-pot, don't you eat anything the way it's served?" I teased him, pointing to the pile of peppers. I just didn't scoop them out of the box but I couldn't pass up a chance to rib him.

"Of course I do, but I'd like to live through tomorrow, thank you. Do you want mine?" Edward arched a brow at me and held an especially large pepper out to me.

"No, thanks, I might be crazy but I'm not stupid."

"Didn't think you were," he smirked and put the pepper on the pile with the others.

"How is the drawing going?" he asked as he scooped cashew shrimp on his rice.

"It's good. I like the last pose. I think I'll be using that for a painting."

Edward nodded thoughtfully but didn't look up.

"This is really good. I don't think I've had anything this good south of San Francisco."

"Yeah? Are you in college in San Francisco?"

"Hm? No, but I spend a lot of time in the City." Edward shrugged. "Have you been up there?"

"I went a few times with friends back in high school, and Alice and I went last fall to see a guest lecture at the fashion institute."

"Wow, that's quite a trip just to see a lecture."

"Alice has a mad crush on Tim Gunn. She's a little obsessive but she doesn't like taking long trips on her own. I got to see the collection at MOMA. It worked out."

"And your truck didn't die on the way?" Edward asked doubtfully.

"Hey! Are you dissing my transport? The beast is quite capable! Besides," I said, waving my chopsticks, "we took Alice's Beetle."

As if talking about her had summoned the hyper little beast, Alice's key rattled in the lock and a second later she and Jasper came through the front door. Alice smiled slyly to see me and Edward on the floor, even separated by the coffee table and boxes of Chinese. Jasper gave us a startled look but it was replaced by his usual smile so quickly I couldn't be sure if it really happened.

"Hey kiddies!" Alice squealed. "We're all going to Rocky Horror tonight!"

I glanced at Edward, suddenly apprehensive, and then back to Alice. "We are?"

"Yes! Emmett is going to be joining the cast tonight!" Alice ran off to her room and Edward and I turned questioning eyes to Jasper.

"He lost a bet," he explained with a mischievous grin. I giggled and Edward whistled.

"I warned him," Edward said. Jasper nodded in answer.

"So he's got to join the cast?" I asked. "Who is he going to be? Frank?" The image of Emmett's huge frame crammed into a black corset and fishnet stockings swam through my head and was honestly a bit frightful.

"No," Jasper said, his grin spreading wider. "Rocky."

I fell back on the floor, still clutching my chopsticks and giggling. "Perfect!" Emmett, all muscles, in gold panties. I laughed hysterically.

"Rocky?" Edward asked innocently, and I rolled over to my side to gape at him.

"Haven't you been to see the Rocky Horror before?"

"Nope."

Jasper laughed. "Man, really? You know what we call people who've never been?" Edward shook his head.

"Virgin!" I shrieked, and fell back in renewed giggles. The thought of calling Mister Big and Pretty a virgin, even if only a Rocky Horror Picture Show virgin, was so wrong.

"Finish your kung pao, Bella, and then we'll see who's the virgin," Edward said, pointing his chopsticks threateningly at me.

"Me? I'm not the one who's missed out on a cult phenomenon!" I crowed, but sat up and resumed eating. Jasper went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of golden booze with ice in it. He gave Edward a meaningful look and Edward returned it levelly before returning his attention to me.

"Bella, why'd you come to L.A. for art school instead of San Francisco? You could have gone to the Art Institute."

"Yeah, but L.A is where the art scene is happening, and it's closer to Phoenix."

"What's in Phoenix?"

"My mom is in Phoenix. I go back to visit her whenever I can."

"But you said Auburn..."

"My dad lives in Auburn. I went up to stay with him when ... uh, I moved in with him when I was sixteen."

Edward's eyes flashed over to Jasper, then back to me. Jasper had picked up my drawings and was leafing through them. He held up the last sketch, the one of Edward's back. "This one," he said. "It's perfect." Even though it was just his back, and he was still wearing pants, Edward seemed uncomfortable looking at it. He looked around the living room and his eyes lit on the painting over the fireplace.

"Hey, Bella," he said abruptly. "Did you do this painting?"

"Yeah, last fall." It was one where I had used Alice as the model, though she was so obscured by lush vines and leaves that it was hard to tell. A sylph, caught in the moment of transformation from human to vegetable. The scene in the background was desert, taken from a trip to Joshua Tree.

Edward nodded, probably pleased he'd turned the attention away from himself. I could see Jasper's eyes sliding appreciatively over the line of her waist and hip. Her hazel eyes glowed out from the shelter of ivy leaves. Suddenly shy, I looked at my plate while I pushed the last few bites of rice around with my chopsticks.

"How do you choose a model?" Edward asked, and I saw Jasper turn to me, curious for my answer.

"I don't know, it's usually just someone who I have a visceral response to, someone who fits the feeling."

"Feeling?"

"The feeling I want for my painting." I waved toward the painting with Alice. "Although I generally resist the stereotype, Alice really is a force of nature. She's like something untamed and primal. I wanted to capture that." Jasper nodded and turned back to the painting.

Edward cocked his head. "What stereotype?"

"Women as nature. Male painters always portray women as allegories of nature, something wild and unpredictable, like the weather, while men represent culture and civilization."

"Women aren't wild and unpredictable?" he asked, genuinely curious. I snorted.

"Sure they are -- to men," I scoffed. Jasper laughed and Edward looked at him.

"What?" Edward asked.

"Bella is giving you a textbook response, bro. She doesn't believe a word of it."

Edward looked at me. "I just think Manet should have had the men in _Dejeuner sur l'Herbe _naked too." I raised my eyebrows challengingly but Edward just smirked. Suddenly and curiously nervous, I snatched up a fortune cookie.

"Now remember," Jasper said teasingly, "you have to put 'in bed' at the end of your fortune."

I cracked it open and pulled the fortune out. Munching on the cookie, I smoothed the fortune over my knee.

"Your imagination is boundless -- in bed," I said. Jasper laughed and Edward's eyebrows shot up in mock horror.

"I have been told I'm creative," I said, grinning and popping the last bite of cookie in my mouth. "Come on, read yours."

Edward put his chopsticks down and broke open the other fortune cookie. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed as if he were unable to read the words. I wondered what problem Mr. I-Read-Walden could be having.

"What does it say?" Jasper pressed, and Edward gave him a strange look.

"You never find what you seek by looking, but you find what you need where you least expect it -- in bed. No, I don't think it works."

"It works if you're looking for your pillow," Jasper said.

"It sounds like a Rolling Stones lyric," I commented.

"Maybe Confucius is running out of inspirations," Edward laughed, making light of it. He crumpled it up and tossed it on his plate while he ate the cookie.

"Or he got lost in the sixties?" I suggested.

"That would be a sight, Confucius at a Stones concert. Would they sing _Sympathy for the Tao_?" Jasper snorted.

"_Mao's Little Helper_," Edward quipped.

"_Paint It Red_," I added.

We laughed. Alice came back from her room with a rat-tail comb and a can of hairspray. We tried explaining but she waved us off and began issuing directives like a female Napoleon.

Edward and I were directed to wait and be patient and she hauled Jasper into her bedroom.

"Well," Edward said, "I guess we won't be seeing them for the next hour or so." There was an uncomfortable silence. I wondered if he thought they were going to have a quickie. I wasn't entirely certain. Alice could be very single-minded about dressing for Rocky Horror but that was pre-Jasper. The thought of them getting it on, while Edward and I sat here together in the living room, made me uncomfortable.

Desperate for something to do, I started clearing plates from the coffee table. Edward helped me take containers and plates to the kitchen. I scraped bits into the garbage disposal and took the fortune off his plate and stuck it in my pocket when he wasn't watching.

I turned to face Edward and leaned against the counter. "So what are you looking for, Edward?" He just looked at me, confusion written all over him. "Your fortune? What are you seeking?" Expressions flitted across his face as he looked out the dark window for a moment. I thought I saw sadness and anger before his face smoothed into something polite and distant.

"The same things as everyone, I suppose. Meaning. Happiness. Love." I should have expected this, Edward never seemed to give me a direct answer.

"How existential," I said.

"Isn't that what you want?" he asked.

I frowned and looked away. "It sounds pretentious but all I've ever wanted is to be a successful, famous artist." I looked back up at him, feeling like I had exposed something ugly and shallow about myself.

"I don't think it sound pretentious but don't you want more?" he asked, his intense gaze focused in on me like a laser.

"Like what?"

Edward just looked at me like he was trying to read something in my eyes. It made me nervous and I looked away again.

"You're a very strange kid," he said softly, almost to himself.

"I'm not a kid. I'm twenty-one," I said, lifting my eyes to glare at him.

"I figured that, but you look like you're about fifteen. Twenty-one is still a kid."

"What about you? If you and Emmett went to school together you can't be much older than me."

"It's not the age, it's the experience."

"Then I must be ancient, because I've got experience," I retorted. Although I was thinking of experiences in a general way, it came out sounding sexual, and I blushed. Edward smirked.

"An old soul?"

"I guess," I muttered, and I returned to the living room, leaving Edward in the kitchen. I cleaned up my drawing kit and folded up my easel to stow it away. I hated how Edward made me feel like I really was a kid. I was inarticulate and stupid when he talked to me, and as much as I wanted to be near him, the feeling made me want to run away.

Edward followed me to the living room and flopped down on the sofa. Jasper came out wearing purple shadow around his eyes and a baggy black coat. If his hair were longer he'd have made a perfect Riff-Raff. He told me Alice was ready for me. I cast one glance at Edward where he was lounging, watching me dispassionately, and headed to Alice's room where she stuffed me into a tube top and hot pants and painted my face like a prostitute clown.

"Columbia?" I whined. "I always go as Janet! I've got the hair. You know I hate wearing so much makeup." Mascara was usually as far as I went.

"And Janet gets groped by Rocky. Do you really want to run the risk of Emmett's hands on your tits? Now stop fussing and let me do your makeup."

While she worked on me, Alice asked me about the drawing session.

"It's going well, Alice," I said, honestly. "The drawings today look good."

"And what about Edward?" she asked, making significant eyes at me.

I sighed. "I feel like an idiot whenever I open my mouth."

"That's a good sign," she said smugly. I just compressed my lips. She was delusional.

I liked Alice's version of Magenta -- she had the black maid's dress and apron and she just spiked her short black hair instead of going with a wig. Still, her fake eyelashes looked like she had caterpillars glued to her eyelids and I couldn't look her in the face as she taped the top to my boobs so I wouldn't spring out when we did the Time Warp.

Alice moved to fixing my hair and I tried pumping her for information.

"Has Jasper told you anything about Edward?" I asked, trying and completely failing to be casual. Alice pursed her lips as she concentrated on brushing out my hair.

"He doesn't know Edward as well as Emmett does but he says he's a cool guy. I know he gets along with him. I get the feeling Edward's just visiting, though. He's not staying in L.A. for long."

"That's what Jasper told me," I mumbled. I contemplated Jasper's cryptic warning while Alice tugged my hair into two little buns and fixed them in place with butterfly barrettes. He was leaving? Where was he going? Would he be coming back?

Alice cried, "Done!" I looked in the mirror. With the heavy makeup and the buns I looked like a glam Princess Leia.

Alice tied a red bow around my neck and told me to wear my Mary Jane's. I had a black tuxedo jacket with tails in my closet that would do instead of a gold one and Alice released me from her care.

I went into the living room and found Edward sitting alone, reading. He looked up and his eyes bugged as he took me in from my black Mary Jane shoes and fishnets to my tube top and funky rave do.

"What are you dressed up as?" he asked.

"You won't understand until you lose your Rocky Horror virginity. I'm Columbia." Or as close to it as I would get without going shopping and getting a radical haircut. "How can you have lived this long without seeing the Rocky Horror, old man?"

"Just lucky," Edward said, still goggling at my attire.

Alice followed me in. "Your turn, Edward," she sang.

Edward took in her outfit and then stared again at my costume. "Ah, I think I'm good."

"I knew you'd say that, Eddie," she said, and pulled out a sharpie. Quicker than either Edward or I could do anything or ask what she was about, Alice had grabbed his right hand and written L-O-V-E across his knuckles. Edward sat on his hand before she could write HATE on the other one.

"Don't be like that, Eddie."

Edward stared at his knuckles. "Please don't call me Eddie. What are you doing to me, Alice?"

"I'm making your costume, _Edward_. You are Eddie, the motorcycle-riding Delivery Boy, played by the iconic Meat Loaf."

"I don't want to wear a costume," Edward protested. Spoken like a true guy, I thought, rolling my eyes.

"Put on the big girl panties, Edward. All you have to do is have words written on your knuckles, while I'm going out looking like this." I gestured to my revealing outfit. Edward contemplated me.

"I don't think so," he said flatly.

"Virgin," I goaded.

"And I would gladly remain that way if I weren't set on seeing Emmett make a fool of himself. Do they let you in if you're not in costume?" He was nearly as nervous as that first day I'd seen him in Berty's class.

"They'll let you in, but ... " I let the unspoken threat dangle.

Alice chimed in, "We'd make sure they know you're a virgin, Edward, and they make an example of virgins. If you're in costume you'll fit in better."

He really looked startled. "What will they do to me?"

"The same thing that happens to virgins everywhere, Edward," Alice leered suggestively.

He held out his hand. Alice quickly inked H-A-T-E on his knuckles and called it finished.

"What about his head?" I asked, indicating the lobotomy scar placement. Alice shrugged.

"I don't want to ruin Mister Big and Pretty and have you mad at me tomorrow when you're drawing and he has a mark on his head," she said. Edward paled.

"Come on," Alice said, capping the sharpie and gesturing to the door. "Jasper is meeting us there to make sure Emmett doesn't back out."

**XXX**

**I am trying to respond to every review, they are each wonderful. I love hearing from everyone who has no discernable artistic skill as much as the art students.**

**Come visit the thread for this story over on the Twilighted AU-AH forum, talk with me and the other fans of Nudeward. I'll be posting excerpts and teasers as time goes on. **


	7. 7 Grosz

**A/N: This is not a guide for seeing RHPS. If you have never been (Virgin! Go see it, and no, watching a video doesn't count) this story is just the highlights for Bella and crew. **

**SM owns Twilight. The story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

**XXX**

ASC 7

Grosz

The whole way up to Santa Monica Boulevard I twisted sideways in the passenger seat of Alice's car so I could glance back and watch Edward following us on his motorcycle. It was a big bike. It seemed almost as big as Alice's Beetle. Alice cranked up The Killers on the car stereo, so I watched his silhouette and headlamp to pop strains of "Read My Mind."

We had to park around the corner from the Nuart Theater but Edward found closer parking for his bike and was already standing at the old-fashioned glass ticket booth when Alice and I walked up. Jasper was also there with Emmett, his bare legs sticking out of a long trench coat, and the three were having an intense conversation. They all looked angry. Edward was raking his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end like he'd been electrocuted, while Jasper and Emmett glared at him. As we walked up, Emmett handed Edward a cell phone and Edward slipped it into his jacket pocket without looking at it.

Alice bounced over and wrapped herself around Jasper's arm. With our arrival, the men abruptly stopped talking. Jasper kissed Alice on the top of her head, but Edward and Emmett turned to stare at me. Edward had a strange look on his face, angry but something more, too.

"Swan!" Emmett boomed, causing a couple of Transylvanians to look over in curiosity, "You're looking hot tonight!"

My eyes were locked on Edward. As Emmett reached out and wrapped me in a smothering embrace, Edward dropped his eyes, his brow furrowing. Why would he be angry? He wasn't angry when we left the house, so I had to figure it had something to do with the heated discussion he'd been having with Emmett and Jasper.

I wanted to ask what was up but Emmett was talking about how the gold Speedo Jasper had given him was mashing his "man bits" and Jasper was rolling his eyes. Edward muttered something unintelligible and disappeared.

"'Bits?'" Jasper laughed. "Emmett, the only way that you have 'bits' in your pants is if it's Frankenstein's dick in there and all the bits are sewn together." We all laughed. Rosalie returned with tickets and then Emmett gripped her with one massive arm and me with the other. Rosalie looked annoyed but I was beginning to figure she always looked that way. I wondered what Emmett had told her about me.

Jasper looked around and excused himself, dragging Alice with him. Edward returned and stood with his hands jammed in the pockets of his leather jacket, looking strangely awkward.

Rosalie peered out from under Emmett's armpit. "Hey, Edward, aren't you leaving town soon?"

Edward's eyes flicked quickly to me as he answered her. "I was planning to leave in two weeks but it looks like I'll be staying a little longer." I felt a thrill run through me, partly fear and partly a strange feeling behind my ribs.

"Oh? Did something come up?"

"Well, you know I'm modeling at the art school, and then Bella has me modeling too. I guess I'll stay as long as Bella needs me." The strange warmth spread from my chest to my belly.

"Really? Bella?" Rosalie asked with a quick look at me and a lifted eyebrow. "What about your ..."

I didn't get to find out the end of that sentence because Jasper returned just then towing Alice and two other people dressed in perfect replicas of Rocky Horror outfits. The man was wearing a leather jacket with leopard lapels and had horrific makeup on his face, including a lobotomy scar on his forehead. The Rocky Horror Eddie looked at Edward and frowned. Edward's wide eyes were locked on the big bloody and fake mark across the man's forehead. Jasper waved at Emmett.

"Scott, this is Emmett, the Rocky I told you about. Can you work him in tonight?" Scott eyed Emmett.

"You have a costume?" he asked Emmett brusquely. Emmett released me and Rosalie to open his coat and show off the gold briefs. Scott nodded. "Yeah, we can work you in. You know the lines?" Emmett shrugged and Scott glowered. "You can do Toucha-Touch Me with Sarah. There isn't much acting in that scene anyway."

"Thanks, man," Jasper said as Scott turned away. His companion, dressed in a huge frizzy wig and maid's costume, pressed a bunch of pamphlets of future events and the theater schedule into our hands and skipped off. I shoved the papers into my purse for later.

Jasper gestured for us to enter the theater but Edward held back and I did too, claiming I wanted a smoke. Jasper lifted his eyebrows at Edward and Edward nodded in return as he turned back to me. If I hadn't seen the earlier tete-a-tete between the guys I wouldn't have thought anything of it but now I was sure something was going on.

I trailed behind Edward as he stepped to the curb and pulled his pouch from his hip pocket. He rolled a cigarette quickly.

A girl dressed up in a white petticoat and striped gauntlets yelled at us. "Hey, don't smoke here! Go down to the corner if you're going to do that."

Edward shrugged and we walked down to the corner. I dug through my little purse until I found my pack of cigs. Edward lit one for me and then his own. We stood on the dark corner, watching the sparse midnight traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard.

"I don't get it," he said.

"Get what?" I worried he didn't want to model anymore. He likely thought I was weird and was going to back out.

"How can Emmett play a part in a movie?" he asked.

"Oh." I was surprised, since I hadn't been expecting that question. "Well, while the movie is going on the cast shadows it, saying the lines and miming the action on stage. Emmett is going to be one of the shadow actors." Edward shuddered.

"Better him than me." He was silent a moment. "Bella? What do they really do to people who haven't seen the movie?" Edward asked, a wary tone in his voice.

I almost laughed. "Sometimes they have a little ceremony. They make all the noobs go up front and they put a big V on your face with red lipstick. Why? Were you really worried you'd get sexed on stage?" Edward shook his head, but his eyes were still a little alarmed. I laughed. "It's not a porno, Edward, it's just a goofy movie. If you want we can hang out here until it starts and make sure you miss the cherry-popping ceremony."

He looked relieved. "That would be good."

Part of me wanted to just attack him right then, touch his lips and run my fingers through his hair. I resisted. Instead I rolled my clove through my fingers and watched the cars roll down Santa Monica.

"So what were you talking about with Emmett and Jasper?" I was being nosy, and I didn't care. I shivered a little. My jacket was decent but not warm enough for the late night in February.

Edward looked out across the street, but I didn't think he was looking at anything in particular. He exhaled smoke and I followed its path past his perfect profile and mad hair. He took another long drag before he sighed and answered.

"They just wanted to know what my plans were," he said quietly, not meeting my eye.

"Plans for what?" I pressed.

"How long I'm going to be staying with them," he said wryly. "They want their sofa back."

I didn't believe a word of it, but he seemed uncomfortable, so I let it pass.

"I'm going in. I think it'll be OK now. Are you coming?" I asked.

"I'll catch up to you in a minute, I have to make a phone call," he said. I nodded and headed in.

Edward missed the de-virginization. When he finally came into the theater the movie had already started and Trixie was singing the opening song. He found us in the second row where Emmett waited for his debut and Rosalie sat frowning at the players on the low platform before the screen. Jasper and Alice were there, making out. Edward sank into the seat next to me and gave me a weak smile.

What is there to tell? It was the Rocky Horror. If you haven't been to see it, it sounds deranged and kinky. It is deranged and kinky, but it's fun. And despite the sex and incest and ambisexuality, it is strangely innocent, a relic of a more childlike time.

I pulled Edward out of his seat for the Time Warp and he bumbled through it with enough good nature. He kept getting the motions mixed up and I laughed at him. Watching Edward do the pelvic thrust really was going to drive me insa-ay-ane. He flinched when Tim Curry appeared on the screen, dressed in fishnets and a corset, and the "Sins" Frank appeared just feet from us in the identical get-up, flashing nipples.

We were all on our feet for _Sweet Transvestite_, bouncing up and down as Frank said "I see you shiver with Antici-"

"Say It! Say It!" we screamed. Edward stood stock-still. Rosalie was smiling up at Emmett, yelling the words along with us. Maybe she was cooler than I thought.

"-pation!" We all sighed collectively. Edward looked down at me with wonder.

It was about then that the girl playing Columbia spotted Edward in his second-row seat and tried to drag him on stage for Eddie's song, much to the consternation of Scott / Eddie, as well as my Edward. I had to point out the dangers of cute shoe poisoning should my Mary Jane become lodged in her ass. She backed off and Edward shot me a grateful look.

Emmett was enthusiastic in his bit as Rocky, clad only in the tiny gold Speedo suit. I don't know how the darned thing kept him contained but nothing sprang out, much to my relief. He groped "Janet's" tits like they were the first he'd ever held. I knew that wasn't the case. Mine might not be very impressive but they were bigger than Janet's. Even so, Rosalie, she of the truly impressive rack, looked like she might bite through a seat cushion when Emmett disappeared into the tank with the girl playing Janet.

We had a good time. We threw confetti and held up our glow lights. We dealt out our cards of sorrow and cards of shame. At the end Edward turned to me and smiled.

"That was fun. We should do it again sometime," he said. It might have been my imagination but he seemed lighter, less serious. I smirked.

"Once you start doing it, you never want to stop. Do you feel different now that you've had your cherry popped?" I asked and immediately blushed. He just laughed. It was a light and playful sound. His earlier stormy mood seemed to have evaporated in the goofiness of the movie and the shadow actors.

"I don't know, I guess I didn't know what to expect for my first time," Edward smirked, his eyes warm.

"Well, it only gets better the more you do it," I breathed. We were getting close, nearly nose to nose, those intense eyes looking into mine as we leaned towards each other.

"Practice makes perfect?" he asked. My breath caught at how beautiful he was. I wanted to close those few inches and kiss him. He seemed receptive. Perhaps if I made modeling into something more like a date...

"With tonight running so late, why don't we make tomorrow a late session? If you come over at four I can make some dinner for us," I offered.

Edward dropped his eyes. "I don't think I can do it tomorrow. I have to go to Santa Barbara for a couple of days." Although he didn't move, I could feel him withdrawing from me, retreating behind the cool shell.

"Oh." I tried to bury the disappointment that welled up in me. "When will you be back?"

"I'm scheduled to sit for the Tuesday night class, so I'll be free after that."

I thought about my schedule. I had Wednesday morning class but I was open the rest of the day. It was my usual time to paint.

"How about Wednesday afternoon?" I asked.

Edward glowered at the armrest between us, but his voice was casual and gentle. "Yeah, that will be fine. At your house?" He sounded hesitant and I considered. If he was uncomfortable, I'd make it less intimate. We could do this somewhere more public and with less access to a bed. Besides, as much as I liked drawing Edward at home, I really wanted to paint him. Painting meant I needed to be in my studio space, not at home.

"How about at school? I can put up a curtain for some privacy if you like." Edward pursed his lovely lips and nodded. Despite the sense that he was retreating from anything more intimate with me, I wanted badly to touch his lips, feel if they were as soft as they looked.

I might have given into temptation but Jasper and Alice chose that moment to climb over us. They hauled us into the aisle, looking slightly disordered. Alice's burgundy lipstick was smeared all over Jaspers smiling face.

"Let's go get some coffee or a bite," Jasper said, pulling us all close and baring his teeth at the word _bite_. I nodded. Even with the long day and late hour, I felt hyped, ready to do something more. Emmett and Rosalie agreed, but Edward shook his head, his eyes shadowed again. The storm clouds had moved back in.

"I'm leaving for Santa Barbara. I'd better get on the road tonight. I'll see you all when I get back," Edward said. I noticed Emmett's jaw tighten as Edward spoke but he just nodded his head. Edward glanced around at all of us and his gaze stopped on me. "I'll see you later." He turned and strode up the theater aisle. I watched him vanish through the door to the lobby.

I punched Emmett on the arm. "Why didn't you ever tell me about Edward?"

"I told you about Edward. My baseball buddy, remember?" he asked, frowning at me.

"You told me your 'baseball buddy' was a workaholic geek who never took his nose out of a book ..." I trailed off as I remembered the rest of what Emmett had said. _... he never took his nose out of a book long enough to notice that the prettiest girl in school was in love with him. _Emmett was nodding and smiling.

"That would be Edward. He finished college in three and a half years just because he could."

"Wow. I don't think you mentioned him riding a motorcycle, though."

"No? My mom used to call him 'The Fonz' because he was always wearing the leather jacket and riding a bike of one kind or another," Emmett grinned widely and Jasper snickered at the reference. I shook my head. It didn't ring any bells.

"So what were you all arguing about earlier?" I asked. Emmett suddenly looked uncomfortable. Jasper looked away.

"We weren't arguing, I was telling Edward about a call he got at the apartment this afternoon. He didn't have his cell turned on. He needs to deal with some stuff back home."

"His parents called? Why didn't you just give them my number?" I had my cell with me all day. Surely they could have reached him that way.

"It wasn't an emergency, just an old friend. Where's a place open for coffee this late?" Emmett asked abruptly, changing the subject.

_The mystery deepens_, I thought. If it wasn't an emergency, why was he leaving in the middle of the night? A strange suspicion was forming in my head.

Before I could dwell on it too long, or force Emmett to give me the low-down, Alice grabbed my arm and steered me out the side exit to the right of the stage. As we stepped out into the crisp night, Jasper and Emmett were arguing.

"You won't get a piece in the student show this year, my friend," Jasper said.

"Oh? I think I will. That new steel piece I just finished will definitely make it in, jackass."

"I'm the jackass? That piece is crap! You want to make it a bet?"

"You're on! Loser gets his dick pierced!"

"Aw, Emmett, you shouldn't. You know what a pussy you are about pain!"

"Jasper, the only one in pain will be you."

Alice snorted as we got in her car. I heard Rosalie say, "Are you two idiots seriously going to pierce your dicks over who gets into an art show?"

"Why not?" boomed Emmett. "I'm not going to be the one with a hole in his schlong. Besides, we've done worse. In high school I lost a bet to Edward and electrocuted my nuts."

I laughed all the way to the diner.

At the old coffee shop I ended up sitting beside Rosalie. I was a little worried when she pulled something out of her bag that looked like a sock doing battle with a pack of double-pointed sticks.

"What the fuck _is_ that? Are you knitting?" As soon as the words were out of my mouth I felt vulgar and graceless, but Rosalie smiled at me. She was gracefully holding the silver shiny sticks and doing this weird in and out and over thing with yarn that trailed out of the bag. She wasn't even looking at what she was doing, but I was mesmerized, following the path of the yarn.

"Yes, it's knitting. I'm making a sock."

"One sock? Seriously?" I wasn't going to get my mouth under control as tired as I was but I mentally smacked myself anyway.

"Yes, this is the first sock. I've already made the second sock." _ It must be the sleep-deprivation and I misheard her, or I am having a serious dada moment_. I shook my head and laughed nervously.

"You've already made the second sock? How can you make the second sock first and the first sock second? Is this some kind of zen mind-game?"

"No," Rosalie laughed. "It's a way of preventing second-sock syndrome." Her hands continued to move rapidly: lift, poke, wrap, slide, repeat. "You finish one sock and then you don't feel like making the second. So if I do the second sock first..."

"I see why you're dating Emmett. You're just as deranged as he is."

"I didn't come up with it. It's just knitting humor."

"So why are you making socks? Why not just buy a pair of socks?"

"Why do you make art, Bella? You could just buy a cheap print if you want something pretty on the walls." I began to bristle and then I realized what she was getting at.

"Self-expression, I suppose. Creating something beautiful, something honest about the world. Are you saying socks are art?"

"I don't know that socks are the highest form of self-expression but I certainly feel better having something I made on my feet. And I find the act of creating to be soothing, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," I said. "So did you really teach Emmett how to knit?"

"Yes, he's a natural." Rosalie smirked into her knitting. I wondered if she was really talking about his knitting ability.

The more I talked to Rosalie at the diner, the more I liked her. She was very down-to-earth. I watched, entranced by the way a sock grew almost effortlessly from a piece of string. It was like magic.

As we were leaving the diner I asked Jasper what was going on with Edward. Jasper grumped and hedged before giving me a sad look.

"You and Edward are just friends, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're not ..." I gestured ambiguously, but Jasper seemed to understand me.

"Edward's just got some personal things to deal with. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it when he gets back."

"Is it ..." I paused. I wasn't sure what I was even trying to ask. "Does this have something to do with me?" I asked. For a moment Jasper looked alarmed, then his jaw tightened and he shook his shaggy blonde head.

"It's nothing, Bella. Edward's just being a moron." And that was all I could get out of Jasper.

XXX

It was noon when I dragged myself out of bed on Sunday. I'd had weird dreams about motorcycles and books and Mickey Mouse ears, whatever the hell that was about. I hauled myself to the school studio with the drawings from yesterday, listened to music, painted, and thought about Edward. Perhaps daydreamed about Edward would be more accurate. With the drawings of him tacked to my wall, I let myself wallow in thoughts of his pale smooth skin and crystalline green eyes. Part of me wished I had touched his sleeping face. Even if I had wakened him, the memory would have sustained my fantasies now...

I had ransacked my pockets and purse before leaving the house and found the cookie fortunes, the flyer I was handed at Rocky Horror, the take-out menu from Hu's, and my ticket stub for the movie. I tore the menu and flyer into strips and used gel medium to incorporate them into the painting I was working on. Edward reclined shirtless in a tangle of thorny vines, the scraps making texture of muscle and ligament as I painted over them. The text was barely visible through the paint. I laid Edward's fortune into the wet paint near the bottom, next to a hand. I made sure it remained clear of paint, and could be easily read.

_You never find what you seek by looking, but you find what you need where you least expect it._

What did I need? I knew what I wanted, and the strength of desire had made my wants into needs. I wanted fame and recognition. I wanted validation as an artist. I wanted to have made a life worth living, to make the gift of my life worth the sacrifices that others had made for me. The sacrifices of my mother, and of Ashley and June. When I thought about Ashley and June, I went back and changed the background. Instead of a dark drape, Edward now reclined against a background raw as fresh meat. I let the red paint, tinted with green to give it depth, drip and run like blood. He was less like an angel and more like a god, reclining on an altar of sacrifices.

I painted and thought about the hints and mysteries around Edward. The phone call he missed and his running off in the middle of the night right after. His physical distance and refusal of Lauren's advances. Jasper's warning and Emmett's angry glare.

Setting aside both the paintings and the mysteries, I worked on another painting. I used my own fortune and ticket stub as background texture. In this one, Edward retained the angelic visage, and the shadow of wings, but the reds became flames moving up around his form.

I was working on a third painting early in the evening when Jessica arrived. I ignored her, and she me, but after a few minutes of rattling around in her space, I was startled by the noise of her throwing her mobile project into my space. I pulled my ear buds out and stomped over to the dividing line of conte crayon.

"Jessica! What the fuck?" I demanded. Instead of the rude retort I expected, Jessica threw herself on me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and sobbing into my hoodie.

"Oh, Bella! I'm so sorry!" she wailed, and then she flung herself away from me and began picking up her half-assed mobile and smashing it on the concrete floor. I backed away, watching her warily.

Jessica was muttering to herself: "Fuck this shit, fuck it, it's all crap anyway..." and so on in that vein. I started putting things away. I didn't want anything of mine out where she might damage it. I could come back in the morning, early, and finish my paintings. I really didn't deal well with goofy emo freak-out girls. I knew I should be all empathetic and crap, but honestly, a girl crying makes me more freaked out than any guy I know. Everyone should know their limits and drama queen shit is mine. Besides, it's not like we were friendly. Up until now Jessica had always been a complete bitch to me.

I got everything put away and Jessica was ripping stuff off her wall and throwing it to the floor. One stretcher bar cracked from the force of her throw. She was crying in earnest now, tears streaming down her face and she was wailing at the top of her lungs. Mike came skidding around the corner, curious to see what the ruckus was about, and I shrugged at him.

"What's going on?" he asked redundantly, since I'd already signaled I had no clue.

"I don't know, some kind of freak fit," I answered, shrugging expressively.

"What did you do to her?" Eric asked, as he peered over Mike's shoulder.

"Fuck you, Eric! I didn't do anything to her! She was like this when she came in," I retorted.

Just then Jessica turned and flung herself at me again. "I'm sorry," she quavered into my shoulder. I was too short for her to cry into my chest, though by her contortions I thought she might try. "I wasn't feeling good, I'm sorry, Bella! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have done it but I was so mad!"

Jessica pushed away from me and with a last sob, she ran off. Eric and Mike looked at me and I just stared back. I had no idea what she was sorry about, other than being weird.

"I swear, I didn't have anything to do with that," I said. Mike and Eric didn't look very sympathetic.

"You didn't turn on your bitch mode for her?" Mike asked coldly. I seethed inwardly. I would have expected better from Mike but maybe I hadn't been the nicest when I dumped him. He thought I was cold hard-hearted. Maybe he was right.

"It's not illegal to be a bitch, Mike."

"You should know, Bella." I glared at him and just gave up.

"Fuck this crap. I'll be back tomorrow." I grabbed my bag and headed out. I drove around a bit on the way home, just to give myself time to calm down. By the time I pulled into the driveway the mystery of Jessica had been pushed to the back of my mind and I was wondering what Edward was doing at that moment.

Alice was making a pot of chicken soup with matzo balls when I came in. I washed up and helped her form the matzo balls while the soup simmered.

"How did the painting go without your model?" Alice asked. I decided to skip the Jessica freak out story.

"Pretty good, I've got at least one painting I think I'll be entering in the student show. We'll see. Where is Jasper?"

"He's getting his work ready for the show, too. He'll be over later." Alice paused. "Do you mind if he spends the night?"

"Jasper? No, I don't mind. You think he's going to stay the night?"

"I asked him if he wanted to and he said he might ..." Alice grinned from ear to ear.

"As long as you're not kicking me out to make room for your hippie boyfriend, I'm cool with it."

"He's just spending the night!" Alice exclaimed, dumping the matzo balls in the bubbling soup.

"I might believe that if I hadn't seen the two of you together. He's going to be moving in by summer."

"Bella! What about you and Edward! When is he going to be spending the night?"

"Hm. Never." I might want him, but he'd been clearly giving "hands off" vibes. Between that and my own nervousness, I just didn't see anything happening.

"Never? He had his shirt off in our living room for you, after you've seen him naked, and you think he's not going to spend the night with you?"

"I don't think he sees me like that. Besides, Jasper said Edward's leaving town, and look, he up and runs off to Santa Barbara."

"What do you care if all you want is to get him naked without the paints? Don't all artists try to fuck their models?"

I snorted. "That's right, baby, I just had you model for me so I could get you into my bed. Don't you want to go Dyke for art school? It's so much cooler." I made smooches in the air at Alice and she swatted at me.

"Gross, Bella. I'll stick with Jasper. Don't you like Edward? When we were at the movie, it looked to me like you two were having a good time."

I sighed. "Seriously, I do like Edward. I'd like him to want me too, but... You didn't see how he shot down Lauren when she asked him out. Then Jessica was all over him and he just seemed scared. I don't think Edward's available," I said, wondering what was going through his head. Was he gay? Was that why Jasper was trying to warn me off? But why not just say it? We certainly knew plenty of gay art students and professors. It's not like sexual orientation was something that had to be hidden around a group of Los Angeles art students. What other reason could he have for turning down the advances of women? Then there were Jasper's enigmatic statements about Edward leaving town and being a moron. I felt like the answer was staring me in the face.

"Well, he's not modeling for those tramps, is he?" Alice arched an eyebrow at me.

"Just because he's comfortable modeling for me doesn't mean he wants anything more," I muttered.

"We'll see," Alice said with an impish wink.

XXX

I woke Monday morning with a sureness about Edward. In my sleep all the puzzle pieces fell into place. There was someone else, someone in Santa Barbara. Whether that someone was a man or a woman I wasn't sure, but I felt sure he was in love with someone else, someone who wasn't me.

The day was gray and drizzly. I drove to school carefully. Los Angeles drivers don't know how to drive in even a small amount of rain. I wasn't really worried about someone hitting me in my old pick-up truck but I didn't want to lose traction on the oil-and-water slicked streets and wipe out a bus-stop full of people. Between my revelation about Edward swirling through my head and the crazy drivers on the road, I was emotionally exhausted by the time I reached school.

When I slogged into the 300 studio, I found Jessica's work space in a shambles. Everything was torn up and thrown around, paintings, drawings, projects all strewn around like trash. I had no extra energy to waste on Jessica's drama, not with my own internal struggle.

Setting all my new paintings out against the back wall where I could see them, I contemplated the direction these paintings were taking me. There was real energy and passion in them. It was Edward: that man exuded sensuality. The sight of him in my paintings was both wonderful and sad. I would have the paintings of him though his heart was elsewhere.

I picked out two paintings, the one with the fortune and the one where it looked like Edward was resting on raw flesh, to enter in the student show. I was grateful to be an acrylic painter. If I was working in oils, the paint would still be wet and unmovable. I left the rest out while I quickly photographed the two paintings against the gray drape. Then I took the two paintings off to the gallery to submit them.

While I was filling out the forms and taping them to the backs of the two paintings Professor Berty came in to see what was being submitted. He looked over the two paintings and gave me a smile and nodded in approval, like I had seen him do to Seth more than once. Normally Berty frustrated me with his fussiness and repetition, but that one simple sign from him put a smile on my face. It was like a single thin ray of sunshine through the storm clouds of my confusion.

**XXX**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews. I'd love to hear more RHPS stories. Have you ever been in a cast? I have, once, and it cemented my conviction that I should never be allowed to act. Sing, maybe, act, definitely not.**

**For any more discussion, come visit the thread for this story on the Twilighted AU-AH forum. I've posted a link on my profile.**

**Thank you to MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly, my wonder-betas. **


	8. 8 Rembrandt

**A/N: SM owns Twilight. This story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

ASC 8

Rembrandt

The days were speeding by too fast. I realized I had less and less time to finish and photograph a body of work for the scholarship. Although I liked the paintings I had done, I needed more. Better and more. I began to feel panicked about how much time I would have with Edward. Although I reminded myself Edward was returning and I had loads of sketches, I wanted to be around him, to breathe in the same air as he did when I worked, to feel that irresistible draw to him.

Monday night I flopped down beside Jasper as he lounged on the sofa reading a book. Alice was sitting at the dining table, working on her laptop with her ear buds in.

"He's seeing someone in Santa Barbara, isn't he?" I asked. I didn't even bother to use Edward's name. Jasper would know who I was talking about.

"Yep," Jasper said, not even looking up from his book.

"That's who called your apartment looking for Edward on Saturday?"

"Yep."

I sighed. "Why didn't you just tell me, Jasper? Why all this 'he's leaving town' crap?"

Jasper closed his book. "He_ is_ leaving town, Bella. I don't know why he's stayed as long as he has."

"The modeling..."

"Yeah, yeah," he said dismissively. I could tell he wasn't impressed.

"Why do you care, Jasper? Why all the cloak and dagger secretive shit?"

"You don't know anything about him, Bella. What he's doing is just ... wrong."

"Wrong? Is he a murderer or rapist or something?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Then what the fuck? He seems like a nice guy to me. I'm a big girl. Can't I choose my own friends?" Jasper glared at me, his brows knit with anger, and then he looked away, staring at the wall intently.

"So he's just a friend to you? You aren't ..." he asked with a significant look at me. I shook my head. I hadn't done anything to be ashamed of, girlfriend or no. Edward hadn't made a move on me. We'd been perfectly platonic.

"No, we're just friends, Jasper."

"Then what difference does it make to you if he's involved with someone, Bella?" he asked. I gaped like a fish for a moment before I closed my mouth with a snap.

"No difference at all." I stomped off to my room and didn't talk to Jasper again.

No difference at all. Nothing had changed since Saturday afternoon, but like one of those pictures that could be an old lady in a kerchief or a young woman with a feather, my perception of the situation had changed. I fantasized about things I would say to Edward when I saw him again.

In one fantasy, I confronted him and cursed him while he told me about his mystery love.

In another I told him I wanted him and he grabbed me up in his arms and said it had all been a misunderstanding, and he wanted me. Then he kissed me. Understandably, I preferred the second fantasy.

But I'm a cowardly bitch, and I knew I wouldn't do either one. I would be a friend to him and take what I could. I'm not the kind of girl who makes a move on someone else's boyfriend. That crap is low.

Mostly I just wished he would call from wherever he was. He didn't. I wasn't going to call him. I would not show my desperation so plainly.

In the Tuesday afternoon class, Seth and I dissected Jessica's scene at the studio. He had heard Jessica wouldn't be back. She'd dropped out, but he didn't know why.

"Probably drugs or insanity," I muttered. Seth laughed.

"Why do all the funny things happen to you, Bella?"

"Just lucky."

I actually was lucky. Jess was gone. No more snide comments or dirty looks. Plus, I'd been trying to figure out a polite way to ask her about hanging the sheet without her either going crazy on me again or acting like a snotty bitch. Now that she was gone I was able to easily convince Garrett, the painting department's grad assistant, to help me run a heavy gauge wire across from my wall to hers, where I could put up a curtain. He said it could stay up as long as no one complained, but I assured him I'd only use it when I had a model sitting for me.

Wednesday I was in the shop while I waited to hear from Edward. I was cutting one by two's and attaching them to mdf boards cut to the size I wanted for painting. I'd sand and gesso them, and then once the paintings were done they'd be ready for hanging No framing required. It would cut down on both my labor and the time spent fooling with them.

I was doing something that required my complete attention, concentrating on not cutting off any fingers, but thoughts of Edward still pushed into my mind. _Friend, just be a friend._

I finished at the chop saw and pushed the goggles back on top of my head, stacking the cut boards, when a pair of hands reached around me to pick up the pile. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Fuck!" I shouted, springing away. Edward smirked at me and leaned past to scoop up the boards. I felt exposed, as if he had been listening in on my thoughts. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were going to call?"

He shrugged. "I thought I'd surprise you. Why does the painting department have a wood shop?"

"So we can build stretcher bars and crap." He had my pile of one by twos, so I picked up the mdf boards I had cut earlier on the table saw and led the way back to my space. Now that Edward was here, I'd sand and gesso tomorrow morning, or after he left tonight. I wasn't going to waste time when I had so little of it with him.

"How long do I have you for?" I asked. It was already past four in the afternoon.

"As long as you want me," Edward replied, setting the boards down beside my easel. I knew he only meant for the modeling session, nothing more. If only ... "What happened to Curly Girl's stuff?" he asked. I looked to where he was pointing. Jessica's space had been completely cleared out.

"She had some kind of fucking breakdown and dropped out. I don't know." I noticed his eyes were incredibly dark, his pupils dilated. I had to turn away before I became locked into his gaze. I went to the curtain I had rigged and drew it shut across both spaces. "Look. Privacy."

Edward nodded quietly, and before I could do anything he was stripping out of his jacket and shirt. He sat in the armchair and pulled off his boots. I just stood there like an idiot for a few moments, watching him expose more creamy white skin to me. He almost seemed in a hurry, not even paying me any attention. It was so different than just two weeks ago in class, when he'd hesitated. Of course, this time he left his pants on. I shook myself out of my wide-eyed reverie and began squeezing paint on my palette.

Soon I had everything ready and I turned back to him. I wanted to touch him, move his limbs as I had on Saturday, but I couldn't bear to touch him now. I'd surely do something I shouldn't. "Put your hands down on the outside of the chair. No, limp, that's it," I directed. "Scoot down. Now put your head back. All the way back." He was like a rag doll, thrown down into the chair, but it was the limpness of exhaustion, as if from sensual exertion. Although the pose was lifeless, Edward seemed tense somehow, charged, as if he might spring to his feet any second.

"Are you comfortable?" I asked.

"Yes, though I may need to move my head once in awhile."

"I'll give you breaks." I stared at him, limp and graceful, spread out before me like a sacrifice. It was a vulnerable pose, as if anticipating a blow or a kiss. I wanted to lean in and press my lips to the hollow of his throat as I watched it move when he swallowed. I licked my lips. "How did modeling go last night?" I asked, trying to find some topic to cover up my blatant gawking. I began mixing a cool dark brown for the background and painting the negative space around Edward.

"It was fine," he responded.

"Is it getting easier to be nude in front of strangers?"

Edward laughed, and I shivered at the sound. He had the sexiest laugh. "Yeah, actually, it is getting easier. What you said last week really helped. And I'm learning stuff all the time." I loved the sound of Edward's voice, slow and steady, thoughtful and deep. His voice was as cool and easy and as masculine as everything else about him.

"Yeah? I've never modeled. What are you learning?"

"Things like bringing my own robe instead of wearing the school one, that was the first trick. Also, not to bother with underwear, since it leaves marks and is just one more thing to keep track of." Edward was going commando? That was a visual I didn't really need... but he was still talking so I forced my thoughts back to the conversation. "I'm getting better at covering up the tattoo by myself, although not all the teachers care about it."

"Yeah, I think you're the only model we've had in Berty's class with ink. We did have a girl with tattoos in Varner's class last year." I began to relax with the flow of conversation.

"Yeah, Varner doesn't seem to care as long as I'm not one big mass of ink." Edward said. I was surprised by his relative chattiness. He seemed lighthearted, too, as he had at Rocky Horror. Almost cheerful. From this angle he couldn't see me. Perhaps it was easier for him to be more open with me out of sight. I decided to take advantage of his chattiness. Since we were on the subject, and I'd been wanting to know, I pushed forward with a question I'd had for awhile.

"It's a beautiful tat, Edward. What does it mean?"

"Oh, that. Emmett designed it for me. I really like the short stories of Jorge Luis Borges. He created a labyrinth of words. You think you're going in one direction and then you find yourself going down a blind alley, and you're not where you thought you were..." Edward seemed to be lost in thought.

That seemed as ambiguous as any of the things he had said Saturday night. I rinsed my brush and moved on to mixing a medium cool flesh tone for the under-painting.

"That sounds like my life, going the wrong way, having to backtrack... " I was silent as I painted the cool undertones. Under his arms, under his jaw, the ripples of his chest and sleek abdomen.

I let him know he could move his neck and after a quiet moment of rolling his head from side to side, Edward returned to his pose. I resumed my painting.

We were quiet a little while. I mixed in some gel medium with the lighter flesh tones to extend the working time so I could draw through it for a sgraffito effect. I avoided the question I really wanted to ask him and went for something safe.

"Emmett said you finished college in under four years. Did you just graduate?" I asked.

"Yeah, in December," he replied.

"Where did you go?"

"UC Berkeley." That would explain Edward visiting San Francisco. Cal, as UC Berkeley is familiarly known, is just across the bay.

"Nice. What was your major?"

"I majored in English Lit," Edward said, and I barked out a laugh before I could stop myself.

"Why is that funny?" he asked.

"Sorry. I figured you for a music or film major: something cool."

"You don't think English is cool?"

"I just don't think of English majors riding motorcycles and getting tattoos and nude modeling. I think of them with wire-rimmed glasses and tweed jackets spending late nights in the library. Being English is cool, studying English is nerdy."

"You and Emmett share that view. _I_ think English is cool, but I did spend a lot of late nights in the library. Besides, how is the library different than being here?"

"We have loud music," I pointed out. "Are you saying art majors aren't inherently cool?"

"Oh sure, flakey artists are so cool," he remarked dryly.

"I am not a flake, Edward," I said, glaring around the edge of the painting at him. He didn't lift his head, so the glare was wasted.

"Sorry, present company excepted. Actually, Emmett and Jasper aren't too flakey, either. I can't answer for the rest. You three are really the only ones I know."

"There you go. You only know three and we're not flakey, but you're willing to buy into the stereotype, huh?"

"Sorry," he said.

"Knock, knock," came a voice from the other side of the curtain, and Seth poked his head in. His eyes widened a bit as he took in Edward shirtless in my chair, then he looked at me.

"Seth! Don't you know you're supposed to wait to be admitted? What if my model was nude or I was changing or something?"

Seth eyed Edward and then me. "Nothing I haven't seen before," he said with a roguish wink.

"Seth, that's rude! Are you just here to heckle me?"

"Sorry, Bells, I just wanted to know if you want to grab some dinner with me," he said.

"Sorry, Seth, I'm busy," I gestured lamely to Edward. "What about after Berty's class tomorrow?"

"It's a date, hot stuff," he said cheekily and popped out as abruptly as he'd arrived, pulling the curtain shut. I turned back to Edward and found him glaring at the curtain where Seth had just disappeared. He rolled his neck and it cracked loudly. I waited for him to relax into his position before I resumed painting and my inquiry.

"So you finished college ahead of schedule. What are you doing on Emmett and Jasper's couch, job hunting?" I asked, again opting for a safe subject.

"I have a job," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I painted the long column of Edward's exposed neck with flowing strokes.

"Modeling? I meant long-term. What does one do with a degree in English Lit?"

Edward chuckled. "I feel like I'm being interrogated. _Vee haf vays of making you talk_!" he said with a terrible German accent.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just curious. If it bothers you ..." I stopped and he lifted his head to smile at me.

"No, it's okay. Really." I returned to painting him, and he ruminated on my earlier question.

"What one does with a degree in English Lit...Well, I could go back to school to get a doctorate and become a professor. Or I could get a teaching credential and teach _Hamlet_ to high school kids. Or I could work as an editor or a grant writer or a librarian. All kinds of things."

"What do you_ want_ to do?"

"I want to do what every English major wants to do. I want to write the Great American Novel." I could hear the capitalizations in the way Edward said the words.

"I thought Mark Twain wrote the great American novel," I muttered.

"_Innocents Abroad_? One of the finest travel documents ever," Edward said.

"Innocence, a broad, what? I meant _Huckleberry Finn_." Edward laughed. The sound made another shiver run through me.

"Another great story of the American journey." He paused for a moment and seemed to consider his words before he spoke next. "I want to write about the world, but I really haven't been in the world much. I don't know that I have anything to say. I guess I just want to take a look around, see what's out there."

"Why don't you just write about your life?" I asked. In a way I just painted my life. Pain, loss, blood, redemption. It was all I had.

"Nothing's ever really happened to me."

"Everyone has something, Edward."

The sound of his exhale was a sad sigh. "Not me. Not really."

"Edward, everyone has family, life, love ..." I stopped. Self-consciousness swept over me, and I couldn't go on. I didn't really want to hear...

He didn't answer. I concentrated minutely on the light as it reflected off his creamy chest.

"Edward, why are you really here, in L.A, taking your clothes off for art students?"

He sighed. "The long story or the short story?"

"Go for the long story, we're not going anywhere."

He was quiet, and when the moment stretched out and I was about to repeat the request, he started speaking. He spoke slowly, as if he was thinking about what he was telling me, like he was worried about how it would come across.

"I was just going to visit for a weekend on my way through L.A. when Emmett and Jasper and I got hammered one night. We were playing poker and I was winning. Emmett was out, and Jasper was nearly flat and suggested a wager, all in. A month of life modeling. I lost."

"A month? Is your month almost up?"

"Almost. One more week. I don't think Emmett and Jasper thought I'd last. They probably expected me to fold after the first session. Then I might have had to do something worse..."

His words began to run together as he spoke. All I could hear was one line. One more week. The air seemed thin suddenly, and I gasped.

"So you'll only be modeling for me another week?" Maybe he heard the panic in my voice, but Edward raised his head and squinted at me.

"No, Bella, that's something else. I made a deal with you. As long as you need me, I'll be here." He looked at me a moment longer, and then leaned his head back with a sigh.

I took some slow breaths to calm myself. With a final deep cleansing breath I picked up an old chopstick to draw through the wet paint in a sgraffito technique, exposing the darker paint beneath, sketching his collarbone and throat.

"After L.A., then where will you go?" I asked. It was a struggle to keep my voice even.

"I don't know," he answered. "We're going on a road trip, me and the Triumph. I want to see America. Maybe I'll head up to Canada for awhile, maybe down to Mexico, like Kerouac did."

"Wow, a road trip. Like _Easy Rider_? Or the _Motorcycle Diaries_ without the Marxism?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Are you going with anyone?" I asked and felt so transparent for the obvious probing, but Edward didn't seem to notice.

"No, just me. Why?"

"I just wondered. It's such a big bike, and you could easily carry a rider."

"It's a cruiser, Bella. It's meant for the road. They're all big like that."

"If you're going to ride something that big you might as well drive a car. It's not much smaller than Alice's Beetle."

"It's more fun than a Beetle," Edward defended his ride.

"Yeah, but if you hit an owl on your motorcycle," I laughed, "You're wearing the owl. That isn't a problem with the Beetle." Edward laughed, too.

"I like the feeling of the air rushing past me, the engine under me. It's better than being in a car."

I just nodded, remembering the few times I had ridden on the back of Mike's motorcycle, my arms around his chest, and my legs around his hips. The memory made me tremble with erotic delight. Riding on his motorcycle had been the best thing about Mike.

"That will be quite a trip," I muttered, trying to push away the thought of Edward on a motorcycle, my legs wrapped around his.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. "I hope so. It would be great to find something to write about, my _raison d'etre_."

Nothing here, then. No reason for him to stick around Los Angeles. I said nothing, just letting the distant noises from the corners of the 300 studio form a background to our silent thoughts. As I worked I could see the melancholy I felt working its way out in the paint. The colors were cooler, and the limpness of the pose was my own submission to fate.

"How long will you be gone?"

"As long as it takes to find what I need," he murmured.

I painted in silence and he didn't offer anything more until I was done.

XXX

**Sgraffito -- a technique where a wet layer of paint, clay, or plaster is drawn through with a tool, exposing a different color underneath. Translated from the Italian, "to scratch"**

**Stretcher Bar -- the wooden frame around which canvas is stretched for painting. Many painters build their own stretcher bars, though pre-made pieces can be purchased and assembled. **

**MDF -- Medium Density Fiberboard. MDF is also known simply as fiberboard. Being smoother and more compact than particleboard, it makes a good base for painting and isn't prone to the warping of regular board wood. It can also be cut to nearly any shape without the peeling or cracking of plywood. MDF comes in sheets of varying thicknesses. **

**One by Two -- in lumber, boards are measured by depth and width, in inches. Bella is using wooden boards one inch high and two inches wide, cut to varying lengths, as a backing frame to the mdf pieces she will be painting on, to give the appearance of a deep canvas and to hide the hanging hardware.**

XXX

**Thank you to everyone keeping up with this story and all the encouragement. Thank you to MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly for reminding me to define the art terms. **

**If you have questions, comments, would like to chat about ASC, come visit the thread on the Twilighted forum. The link is on my profile.**


	9. 9 Picasso

**Thank you to everyone who is reading this story, I really look forward to reviews and try to respond to each one. I just want to warn you Bella voices some views in this chapter which are not strictly my own. **

**SM owns Twilight. This story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

XXX

Picasso

Friday morning dawned cold and rainy. My cell phone chimed before I was completely awake, hunched over a cup of strong black coffee.

"Yah," I said, answering the phone.

"Bella, it's Edward," he said, his voice low and raspy.

"Oh, so you do have my phone number after all," I muttered.

"What? Of course I have your number, you gave it to me."

I nearly said something snotty about his never having called me before, but I caught myself in time. I didn't want to alienate him. I sighed and rubbed my face.

"Sorry, I'm not really awake yet."

"Oh. I thought you wanted me to model today?" The way he said it made the statement into a question.

"Yeah, I want you to model, but it's only --" I peered at Alice's cat clock on the wall, "--yeesh, Edward, it's only eight!"

"Well, I wanted to catch you before you headed off to school. It's raining."

"So?"

"Could you come by Emmett's place and pick me up?"

"Scared of a little rain?" I taunted.

"I don't really want to ride in L.A. in the rain. Besides, I'd be soaked by the time I got there," he explained.

Oh yeah. Motorcycle plus rain equals very wet Edward. While the image was nice, I certainly wouldn't want him to catch pneumonia.

"Can't you get a ride from Jasper or Emmett?"

"Well, I'm assuming Jasper spent the night at your place with Alice and Emmett is working at home today and since he won't loan me his ride, I was hoping you would just come and pick me up."

"Okay, I'll come get you. Why are you so anxious to get this started today? Got a hot date?" He was silent. "Edward?"

"I just thought you'd want to get as much time in ..." he drifted off.

"Yeah, I do. I just don't usually paint this early in the morning."

"Okay. When?"

"I'll be there by ten," I said, laying my head on the table.

"Okay."

Which was more pathetic, how eager he sounded or how eager I was to see him?

At nine thirty I arrived at Emmett and Jasper's apartment building. I walked into the courtyard around the empty pool to find Emmett and Edward sitting in a couple of chaise lounges under the overhang of the upstairs walkway. Edward had on his usual jeans and jacket and Jasper's guitar was across his lap. He was picking the strings languidly, playing what sounded like "crazy."

Emmett had something that looked like a fuzzy wombat suit in his lap and huge shiny silver knitting needles.

Seeing me, Edward started plucking out "Here she comes now." It made me smile. The day seemed much less gray.

I sat next to Emmett's feet and eyed the fuzzy grey-brown pile. "Are you knitting a fucking Thneed?"

"Fuck, no, Swan!" Emmett cried with false annoyance. Edward chuckled and ducked his head. Emmett lifted his arms to hold up the Thneed. It looked like a giant carrot with little sleeves sticking out at intervals. It was big enough that I could have worn it as a full-body sock, and I could see it was getting larger. "It's part of my senior thesis project," he said proudly.

"A Thneed," snickered Edward.

"It's not a Thneed, you ass-puncher, it's a metaphor for hand work."

"I see. It's the OCD knitter's Thneed," I said, trying to keep a straight face. Edward tucked his chin into his chest and shook with restrained laughter. Emmett glared at the two of us but then looked down and shook his head. I could tell he was giving up the battle.

"Maybe I'll make Dr. Seuss hands to go with it," Emmett muttered. He stuffed the knitted monstrosity into the canvas bag next to his lounge chair. "So you two are headed to the studio for the day?"

"Yep," I said. Edward just plucked on the guitar and stared out at the rain falling on the concrete of the courtyard.

"Well, have him home by curfew, young lady, and no hanky-panky. I know how you art girls get with naive young men," Emmett grinned and wagged his finger at me. I tried to look innocent.

"No, worries, _Dad_," Edward said.

Emmett shifted, making a face as he adjusted his shorts. "I ought to take a break anyway, my underwear are riding up in my crack."

"I hate when that happens," Edward said.

Before I could stop myself I blurted out, "Then it's a good thing you don't wear them anymore, isn't it?"

Emmett and Edward both fixed me with curious stares.

"And how would you know that, young lady?" Emmett asked. Though he was smiling, he slid a strange look at Edward. Edward just seemed bemused.

"Yeah," said Edward, "How do you know that?"

I blushed hotly. "Um, you told me," I muttered. "Are you ready to go?"

Edward nodded and took the guitar into the apartment. Emmett folded his hands primly in his lap, a strange contrast with his huge muscularity.

"Well, Miss Thing, this is a day of surprises. I didn't know you could blush," he said, giving a little head wriggle to emphasize his words.

"Oh, c'mon Emmett, you've seen me fucking blush."

He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Nope, not when you got naked for the video and not even when Mike Newton spilled paint on you in Marshall's class. You just whipped your skirt off in front of the entire class and washed it out and walked around campus in your panties until your skirt dried."

"It was a hot day," I laughed. That had been funny.

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head back appraisingly. "Suddenly you blush like a school girl and you have some psychic connection to Edward's underwear habits. If I didn't know better I would think you were a pod person." He leaned forward suddenly to grab the back of my neck. Emmett ran his calloused fingers around the base of my neck.

"I know there has to be a zipper here somewhere. Give it up, evil space alien, I know you're in there! What have you done with the real Swan?" I giggled and tried to twist away but he was holding me as he tickled.

Edward cleared his throat and Emmett let go of me. I fell off the end of the lounge, landing squarely on my ass. Emmett laughed and even Edward smiled crookedly at me.

Edward extended his free hand to help me up. In his other hand he had his black book bag. As we walked out of the apartment courtyard, I waved to Emmett.

"Don't worry, pops, I'll have your little boy back before bedtime!" I called back. Edward and I laughed.

We ran through the rain to the truck, our hoods up around our faces. I unlocked the passenger door and left Edward to get in while I ran around the drivers door. He'd unlocked it by the time I got there and I scrambled in as fast as I could. I started up the truck and cranked up the defroster. About halfway to school I felt passably dry and noticed that Edward's book bag seemed stuffed.

"What have you got in there?" I asked. I was curious about what he felt a need to bring: a lunch maybe?

"Um, stuff for today. A book, snacks, my robe..." Edward said.

"Your robe?"

"I thought you might want me to model, umm, nude, now that you have the curtain up and I just wanted to be prepared." He sounded a little unsure about it. What a fucking adorable boy scout, all prepared.

I let my mind replay how Edward looked naked. So beautiful. I would have him all to myself today. Something bothered me, though. I wouldn't want to endanger his relationship...

"I'd like you to pose nude for me, but I don't want, umm, anyone getting jealous," I said tentatively.

"Oh," Edward said as if I had revealed something profound to him. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, I wouldn't want anyone thinking this is ... cheating in some way," I said hesitantly.

"It's not as if we're having sex," he teased.

"No, but some people might think it's sexual. Not everyone understands," I said.

"It's art, Bella, right? Just tell him that."

_Him who?_ I got the feeling we were talking about different things. Why would I give a fuck what anyone thought about me? I was worried about what his girlfriend might think...

"Your boyfriend is another artist right? You could have asked him to model," Edward said calmly. It was a good thing we were stopped at a light, because my head snapped to him so fast I might have crashed. He didn't notice my reaction as he was looking out the passenger window.

"What boyfriend?"

"The guy who came by on Wednesday, your lunch date," Edward said, still studying the right hand traffic.

"Seth? Seth's not my boyfriend. He's just a friend." He had in fact spent our dinner together last night telling me all about Rachel, the girl he was dating.

"He's not? Then who is?" Edward asked, turning to look at me.

"I'm not dating anyone."

"Then why would you worry about it looking like you're cheating? Who would be jealous?"

"Your ... girlfriend. Won't she get upset to find out you're getting naked in front of another woman?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Edward said, but his eyes looked startled.

"Jasper said ... that's who you went to see in Santa Barbara."

"Jasper told you that?" Edward's eyes narrowed and his lips thinned in irritation.

"More or less."

"She's my ex-girlfriend," he said in a flat tone that suggested he didn't want to talk about it.

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. I wanted to believe Edward. I wanted to hear that he didn't have a girlfriend, and he was free and unencumbered, but my bullshit alarm was ringing loudly. Who drops everything to drive two hours in the middle of the night to visit his ex-girlfriend?

Once I was parked in the student lot I dug my umbrella out from behind the bench seat of the truck cab. Together Edward and I scuttled through the rain, laughing. He was bent nearly double trying to meet my height under the umbrella, but if I raised it high enough for him to walk normally, I would quickly get soaked. Finally he wrapped his jacketed arm around my shoulders and bent his head down nearly into my hair and we stumble-walked across campus to the Fine Arts building.

More than I should have, I enjoyed the feeling of his arm around my shoulders, his warm lanky body pressed into mine. Even once we reached the shelter of the doorway, Edward's arm lingered a moment, as if he had forgotten it was there. I felt its loss when he finally lifted it and moved away to stand at a more socially acceptable distance from me.

We shook the rain off and went indoors.

As we headed down the long corridor, he cleared his throat and asked, "Did you want me to keep my pants on today?" I'd already been considering what pose I'd want from him if he were nude.

"No, take it all off," I said, and quickly explained the idea I had for today. It would be more stressful. I was going to have him in a crouching pose, so I would have to give him plenty of breaks.

"It's a good thing you seem to be in good shape," I commented. "Hopefully you won't faint."

He snorted. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I've seen more than one model faint during a long-standing pose. It's like doing Pilates, very challenging physically. Edward, I need to do some paperwork at the undergrad office, do you mind...?"

"Not at all," Edward said, looking at the paintings on the walls instead of at me. Jasper was coming out of the undergraduate office as we reached the door.

"Hey, guys," he said, but his eyes were locked on Edward. "What are you up to, Edward?" Edward waited in the hallway with Jasper as I went in to ask Ms. Cope for paperwork to request transcripts. I wanted to apply for a summer student assistantship at the North Carolina arts center, and getting transcripts was one of the first things I needed to do.

She gave me the correct form and I took it to the bench by the door and began filling it out. Edward and Jasper were standing just out of sight in the hallway, but I could hear bits of the conversation, little snatches that made no sense. I knew I shouldn't listen in but I found myself concentrating on catching their words.

"... I'm not dating her ..." Edward's voice was low, but urgent.

"Don't bullshit me, bitch ... you run back to her ..." Jasper was a little louder. I scooted as close to the door as I could and held my breath.

"... a friend," Edward said.

"So she calls you? ... never been her fucking _friend_ ... honest with her ..." Of Jasper's long speech to Edward, that was all I could catch. They were talking about his "ex" girlfriend in Santa Barbara, I was sure of it. I stopped writing, straining to catch every word, but they were talking lower again. The whooshing of the building's heater clicked off and in the sudden silence I softly but clearly heard Edward's last line to Jasper.

"... an honest man? You marry her!" Edward hissed. I froze for an instant, then quickly resumed filling out the form. Edward and Jasper had one last interchange that I couldn't overhear.

I quickly finished the form and signed my name and bounded over to the counter as Edward walked into the office and leaned against the counter beside me. His face was calm and blank, as if he and Jasper hadn't been arguing.

"There you go," I said cheerily to Ms. Cope. She looked over the form and told me the transcripts would be sent out on Monday. I walked out with Edward right behind me.

"What did Jasper want to talk about?" I asked innocently. Edward looked uncomfortable.

"Not much."

"Really? It sounded like an argument."

Edward stopped walking and looked straight into my face. "There was a little misunderstanding when my ex-girlfriend called last week and Jasper and Emmett got the impression I'd gotten back together with her."

Wow. A straight-forward answer. Without really thinking I pressed the advantage of his being so forthcoming.

"Oh. So you drove the two hours up to Santa Barbara in the middle of the night because she gave Emmett and Jasper the impression you two were still a couple?" It was a rude question and I internally winced as I asked it, but he answered it calmly.

"No, I drove up there because she asked me to. As her friend, I couldn't turn her down," he said.

"What a prince. I don't think I've ever had an ex-boyfriend go to such extremes for me," I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"Are you friends with any of them?" Edward countered.

I thought a moment. My friendship with Emmett didn't really count, since, contrary to popular opinion, he hadn't been a boyfriend. "No."

He nodded. "That's too bad," he said. We looked at each other for a long moment before walking silently side-by-side to my studio. I wondered what it would be like to have Edward as a boyfriend. Would he come running in the middle of the night for me? Would he still go running off if his ex called?

In my studio I averted my eyes to give Edward a modicum of privacy as he disrobed. I prepared my paints, lowered my easel a bit so I could sit, pulled out one of my larger prepared boards, and set up my mp3 player with some background music. I had a few moments to think. My intuition told me that everything wasn't kosher with his ex-girlfriend "friend" story and I was trying to fit my suspicion in with the fragments I'd overheard of Jasper and Edward's argument. I shook it off, needing to get into the right mindset for painting. I would contemplate it later. When I turned back, he was ready.

Edward was crouched by the wall, one knee resting on the floor, his back hunched slightly away from me. One arm reached out as his hand steadied him against the wall, while the other arm was curled up and over his shoulder, halfway covering his face. The overall shape of his arced back and crouching leg made him look like a reversed number 2. I knew he wouldn't be able to hold the pose long, so I quickly sketched the curve of his back and buttocks, measuring to get the proportions correct, painting in the dark blocks of negative space. It was a very vulnerable-looking pose, but it exposed the graceful beauty of Edward's muscular shoulders and back. I had an idea of how I wanted to finish this painting, but that would come later, after Edward was gone.

The beating of the rain on the high windows created a drone that washed out the other noises in the studio. Between the noise of the rain and the curtain closing us off, I had a false sense of being alone with Edward, truly isolated.

Some part of me really didn't want to know about his mysterious ex-girlfriend, but once I had the gesture and negative space painted and was working steadily on Edward's musculature, it just came out of me.

"What's her name?" I asked.

"Who?" Clearly his thoughts were on a different track than mine.

"Your ex, the one in Santa Barbara."

Edward paused for a long moment, and then said, "Tanya."

"When did you break up?"

"January, just after the New Year." Only a little over a month, then..

"How long were you together?" I asked, hoping it had been a short relationship.

"Four years."

"Wow, that's a long time." I did a quick calculation. "Wait, were you still in high school when you started seeing her?"

"Yes." Edward sounded sad, tired.

"Did she go to Berkeley, too?"

"No, she goes to UC Santa Barbara." I noticed he used the present-tense. She was still a student.

"That must have been tough, a long-distance relationship for all those years," I mused as I painted the tense muscles of his thigh. Edward coughed.

"Well, we weren't together the whole four years. We broke up and got back together a couple of times."

"Oh," I said. Maybe this wasn't such a permanent break-up then, if they did the back and forth thing. The thought that Edward might get back together with his mystery ex-girlfriend caused me more pain than I would have expected. Why should I care? Because I wanted him to want me? It seemed unlikely that a beautiful specimen of manhood like Edward would be interested in a grungy studio mouse like me. I'm not putting myself down, but I've never been the type to turn heads. But, really, what did I know of Edward's "type"?

"What is she like?" I asked.

He shrugged. "She's beautiful, smart, sweet. She's a nice person." Well, that covered all the bases. I might like to think I'm smart, majoring in art notwithstanding, but beautiful and sweet were not words anyone besides my parents ever used to describe me. Tanya sounded just about perfect, which just begged the next question that popped out of me like done toast.

"So why did you break up?"

Edward was quiet for a long moment. I wondered if he was just asking himself the same question or if he was mentally editing his response. I felt like I was picking a scab. Edward was clearly uncomfortable, and I wasn't enjoying the answers he was giving me, but I couldn't help but ask the questions.

"We just want different things in life," Edward said, and there was an edge to his voice I hadn't heard before. I realized I'd touched a nerve.

"Oh? Like you like mayo and she's a Miracle Whip sort of girl?" I asked in a lame attempt to dissipate the tension emanating from Edward. He didn't laugh.

"Something like that." Without warning, he stood up and announced he needed to take a break. He stretched and twisted in place. When he resumed the pose, he asked a few questions on neutral topics, like the weather and my class schedule, and eventually we lapsed into silence again.

Painting seemed to go faster than ever before. I let my eyes drink in the sight of Edward's long lean body. I could appreciate the solid muscles of his upper back, probably toned from wrestling that big-ass bike around. His torso tapered to narrow hips and a small but nice tight ass. I painted Edward as if I were making love to him, slowly, gently, attentively.

I wanted to pretend, for today at least, that there was no one else in our lives. No complications.

After two hours I figured Edward needed a longer break and we could both use something to eat. He told me he brought food to share, so I left Edward putting on his robe and headed off to get us a couple of cokes. As I sped back from the vending machines I nearly ran down Professor Berty as he came out of his office.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "Where's the fire?"

"Sorry," I muttered and made to go around him but he put his hand up to stop me.

"I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to say I peeked into your space yesterday and the new work is looking good. It looks sexy. You know what Frank Stella said..."

"'If it's not sexy, it's not art. Everyone knows that,'" I recited Berty's favorite artist quote.

"It looks like you've found your passion, Bella. I knew you had it in you."

"Thanks, I feel good about the new work."

"You should, you should." Berty smiled and started to turn away, but I blurted out the stupid question that had been bugging me all week.

"Hey, do you know what happened to Jess?"

"Stanley? She's dropped out. Withdrawn," Berty said.

"I heard that. Will she be back?" I asked.

"Maybe after the baby is born she'll get herself together enough to come back and finish, but maybe not," he shrugged. I pretended to know what he was talking about and gave him the best sympathy face I could muster for Jessica.

"Yeah, that will be hard," I sighed.

"Such a shame. She's having a really hard time of it."

"A shame," I parroted.

"She's not altogether there, if you know what I mean. She's been really sliding the past month and acting more and more bizarrely. Apparently last week one of the secretaries caught her slashing her tire and threatened to press charges! The Dean was able to talk the secretary out of pressing charges with the understanding that Jessica would quietly withdraw instead."

"Really?" I squeaked. Jessica - tire-slashing - the day Edward agreed to model for me ... Berty was talking again and I tried to catch up.

"Yes, it's terrible. All her plans just flushed away." Berty paused and shook his head. "So many women stop making art once they start having children." Still wagging his head he patted my arm paternally and trotted along the corridor past me. I stood still, shocked by what I had heard.

Jessica was pregnant!

Berty was known to enjoy gossip, but being a professor, his gossip was usually direct from the source and pretty accurate. It really gave a different spin on things. My next thought was who the daddy might be. I hadn't noticed her dating anyone, but then I'd ignored Jessica as much as I could.

I stood still, thinking over what Berty had said. The mystery of the slashed tire, the mystery of her breakdown. The continuing mystery of her baby daddy! I felt a surge of schadenfreude and luxuriated in it for a moment. _It couldn't happen to a nicer person!_ I thought sarcastically. Stupid cow. I would never be so stupid, I vowed to myself.

Still thinking, I turned my feet towards the studio. There was a possibility someone else would be moved into Jessica's space now that she was gone for the semester.

By the time I got back, Edward was sitting on the floor of my studio in his robe with a picnic spread on the floor. I flopped down across from him and he handed me a pita with hummus and tomatoes on it. I arched an eyebrow at Edward.

"Hummus?"

"It was all I could find in the fridge at Emmett's that I knew he wouldn't miss. Don't you like hummus?"

I laughed. Emmett was a meat and potatoes kind of guy. "Yeah, I like it. You just don't seem like a hummus kind of guy."

I took a nibble. It was good.

"You will never believe what I heard just now," I said abruptly. Edward looked up from his pita questioningly. I launched into the story Berty had told me about Jessica being pregnant and getting caught slashing a tire and dropping out of art school, and Berty's shockingly antiquated comment about women and kids and art. Edward listened to the whole retelling while he devoured his snack.

"Curly girl? You think she slashed your tire?" he finally asked, when I reached the end of my story.

"I don't know. It seems likely. That was the day I had a big fight with her and trashed her multi-media sculpture. It's too much of a coincidence." I shook my head. "I just can't believe she's pregnant. How could that happen?"

Edward chuckled. "If you don't know how that happens, you might want to have a chat with your parents." I slapped his arm playfully.

"Jackass. I know where babies come from. I mean it was irresponsible of her to get pregnant. I knew she was a poser and this just confirms it"

"What? Real artists don't get pregnant?" Edward asked in joking disbelief.

"Not if they want to be successful. A girl starts having babies and she might as well kiss her art career goodbye."

"Don't you want to have kids someday?"

"Ugh, no. Smelly, whiny, mucky things." Edward laughed as I stuck my tongue out in disgust. "Mother and Artist are contradictory careers. A woman can't excel at both."

"That seems like an outdated view, Bella. I can't believe I'm lecturing a woman about feminism. Don't you think you can do all of it -- motherhood and an art career?" Edward was leaning in closer to me, his brow rumpled with confusion.

"Not if I want the art world to take me seriously," I said. "I've heard what they say. 'A woman with kids must be a bored housewife, dabbling in art.' Besides, I have my kids." I waved my arm at my paintings, leaning against the wall. "Those are my offspring. I'm married to art and my paintings are my children."

Edward looked over at my paintings. "Married to your art? That sounds like a harsh and loveless relationship. All take and no give."

I snorted. "Love's great and all, but I have no intention of giving up my art for a guy."

"You make it sound like an either-or proposition."

"Well, I'd certainly never marry a man who wanted me to give up art to stay home and pop out babies!" I scowled.

Yet, even as I said it I suddenly had a flash of cradling a baby with Edward's green eyes. Must be the fucking ovary goggles messing with me again. I suddenly wanted to reproduce with Edward. It was to be expected, I supposed, because he was gorgeous. Surely he would have gorgeous babies and my genes were responding to that. It was all very evolutionary. I took a long swig of my coke to hide my discomfort.

Edward laughed. "What's so funny?" I demanded, squinting at him as menacingly as I could. He just laughed more.

"You," he said and I glared at him. "No, no, not like that, just ... you're so strange! I've never met a chick who didn't want the whole marriage and children deal."

"You must not meet many -- hey! Did you just call me a chick?"

"Um, no?" he asked, still chuckling.

I swatted his leg as he leaned away from me. "You may call me a woman, or even a goddess, if you like, but I am not a fucking _chick_. Are you ready to get back to work, slacker?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'am!" Edward said, and we went back to our previous roles, artist and model, viewer and subject. Woman and man. I sighed and painted him as the crouching angel.

I had never questioned my aversion to marriage and motherhood before, but as I painted, I contemplated the vision that had popped into my head. It was so vivid, Edward gazing at me with love while I held a child with his eyes. How bizarre. Maybe I should be taking meds if I was having baby-making fantasies. Babies definitely did not fit with my plans for the future.

Lost in contemplation of my fantasy, I realized Edward had asked me a question.

"Sorry, what was that?" I asked.

"I asked if you mind if we meet up early tomorrow," Edward said.

"Sure." I said, still worried about my new and very unwelcome fantasies.

XXX

**Thank you to MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly for not only beta'ing this insanity that I write but also tolerating when I realize I made a mistake and rewrite after they have done. **

**Come visit the discussion thread for this story, the link is on my profile. **


	10. 10 Caravaggio

**A/N: SM owns Twilight, this story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

XXX

ASC10 Caravaggio

Edward came into my studio Saturday morning to find me crouching on the floor gathering up the ripped map pages from my Thomas Brothers Guide.

"What happened, Bella?" Edward asked, kneeling beside me to pick up shreds of the Los Angeles urban grid. "Did Curly Girl return to wreak more havoc?"

"No, I was making wings," I said, not looking up.

"Huh?"

I gestured at the painting on the easel, the one I had been working on yesterday. After dropping off Edward the night before, I had returned to work on the painting a while longer, adding strips of torn maps of L.A. to make shadowy wings rising from Edward's shoulders. Edward stared at the painting, and then frowned at the bits of paper in his fingers.

"So your Thomas Guide was sacrificed at the altar of art? How will you find your way around Los Angeles now?" he asked.

I snorted. "Hey, I was careful about which pages I tore up. It's no big. I never plan on driving to fucking Whittier anyway."

"Good point." Edward handed me the last pieces of paper and I tucked the stray pages back in the mutilated spiral bound book. I straightened up and put the book in my cabinet. It would go back behind the seat of my truck later, where it lived.

With a glance, I took in his attire and nodded my approval. Again, he was wearing a black shirt and jeans - what I was beginning to think of as his uniform. I wondered if he had very many other clothes. It must be hard to have an extensive wardrobe when everything had to be carried on a motorcycle.

"Give me a few minutes to get ready for today," I told Edward, and began setting out materials. I moved the angel painting and put a fresh board on the easel, adjusting it up so I could stand while I painted.

"What do you want today?" Edward asked as he hovered nervously.

"I want to do a full-length portrait of you in the armchair. Keep your clothes on," I commanded, "But remove your boots."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want to paint clothing," he said slyly.

"I want to do a pair of paintings, a diptych if you like, one nude, one clothed."

"Oh," Edward laughed, pulling off his jacket. "Like a before and after?"

"More like a compare and contrast. Get," I commanded, pointing to the armchair. It was so much easier to hide my nerves around Edward by just commanding him.

Edward sat obediently and yanked off his boots. He put his socks neatly inside his boots and put them beside the chair.

I told Edward what to do. I was feeling much more comfortable ordering him around after yesterday, but I still didn't dare touch him, even dressed. I had him pick a visual landmark over my left shoulder to focus on and told him to get comfortable. He got into position, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. While he got settled, I changed the music on my mp3 to the White Stripes rotation. Nice and raw, blues meets garage band.

_You know you're pretty good lookin', for a girl ..._

Somehow Edward's being dressed, except for shoes and socks, made his feet so much more erotic. He had graceful feet, with high arches and long toes. In fact, I felt like his being clothed made the few parts of his body that were naked more sensual, from his graceful neck to his long-fingered hands. I found myself dwelling on the shadow of his throat. The skin appeared so soft. I wondered...

"I thought maybe we could have lunch in the park today," Edward said, apropos nothing.

"What?" I said absently, still thinking about his throat, and watching it move as he spoke.

"It's really nice outside. The sky is so blue today. Maybe we can get some lunch and take it to the park..."

"Yeah, sure, that sounds good," I said absently. I wanted to touch him, feel the pulse of blood under the skin.

_... and your thoughts have been stolen by the boys ..._

I moved on to his hands, the way his fingers lay relaxed against the chair arms. The long square fingers reminded me of feathers, like the ones I had painted on him before. Maybe I could get some feathers to include in the paintings...

"Tomorrow morning I want to go to the Melrose Trading Post, so I can meet you about one or so," I said.

"Oh. Well," Edward said, and he sounded apprehensive. "I had plans for tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh? Hot date?" I teased, though I was directing murderous thoughts at the idea of his spending time with another girl. To avoid looking at him, I painted a thin line of pthalo under the edges of his fingers for a cool accent. It made his hand appear to move off the surface of the board.

"Not really," he replied. "There's a production of Hamlet at the Theater company downtown this weekend and I wanted to see it."

"Oh."

_... my futures wide open ..._

"Have you ever seen Hamlet?" he asked idly. I stopped and refocused on Edward, forcing my brain to shift gears.

"Um, not on stage, just, you know, the movies. I had to read it in high school and we saw the Ethan Hawke film in class. Does that count?" I felt like an intellectual midget, admitting this to Edward.

"Well, I suppose it's an improvement on the Mad Max - I mean Mel Gibson version," Edward said, rolling his eyes. "But Branagh's version is the most faithful of any film."

I hummed in a non-committal way. I hadn't seen Branagh or Gibson playing Hamlet, but that sounded logical. The idea of Gibson as Hamlet was just weird.

For several minutes I painted quietly, visually measuring with my brush. I mixed some white and burnt umber into the black to give a richer color for the shirt.

The proportions of the painting looked off, so I closed one eye and held out my brush to measure. I compared the width of Edward's shoulders to the length of his head, and then compared them in the painting. I adjusted the width of his shoulders, which I had painted too broad, making his head look small.

Edward interrupted the silence.

"Why do you do that?" Edward asked.

"Do what?" I asked, double-checking the measurement.

"That. With your brush. You hold your hand out and squint at it like those old cartoons of painters. You know, like Pop-eye or something. What are you doing?"

"I'm comparing proportions, measuring."

"So that's a real thing to do? I mean, I always wondered why painters would look at their thumbs," Edward said, sounding really confused.

I laughed. "I'm not looking at my thumb. I'm just using my brush like a ruler. Look, from where I'm standing the width of your shoulders is double the length of your head, from top to chin. Now I compare that to my painting and I can get the proportions correct, so it looks right."

"So whenever someone holds their brush out to me, that's what they're doing?" he asked. His tone of voice said he thought I was out of my mind.

"No, sometimes I'm trying to read the angle."

"Oh," he said and we lapsed into silence again, letting the bluesy music take over.

When we reached noon I told Edward we were done for now and let him stretch while I rinsed my brushes. The painting was coming along beautifully, and I figured all that was needed were a few more details and the background and it would be done.

We walked out of the building towards the Union to find some lunch we could take to the park. I breathed in the clean air. Los Angeles after a rain feels like the most magical place, so clean you feel like you can taste creation. I inhaled deeply though my nose, smelling the wet concrete.

"It's a nice day," Edward said, looking around at the bright crisp day.

"Nice doesn't even cover it," I sighed, and led the way. "Let's go find a sandwich. I'm fucking starving."

The campus was moderately quiet, being a Saturday, and only a few places were open. We picked up some grilled sandwiches, chips and drinks.

Standing in the cashier line, the leggy blonde in front of us turned and smiled. "Hey, Bella, how are you?"

"Oh, hey, Kate. I'm fine. What are you doing on campus on a Saturday?" Kate smiled and rolled her eyes.

"Library research on my thesis project. Feminist theory in the P&D movement. It was getting to be such a big topic I had to limit it to California artists." I nodded. I was proud of my Art History grades, but so very relieved I wasn't majoring in it like Kate. She glanced at Edward and I quickly introduced them.

"Nice to meet you, Edward," Kate said sweetly, and stuck her hand out. Edward smiled and accepted it.

"You too. So, are you using Kristeva or deBeauvoir?" he asked. My jaw nearly dropped open. Kate sparkled.

"I was planning to use deBeauvoir to analyze the abject nature of the Painting and Decoration movement in the male-oriented pictorial painting tradition. Are you saying you think Kristeva would be a better choice?"

Edward answered her, but my head was spinning too much to make heads or tails out of the conversation. Kate had lost me somewhere around "abject" anyway. I had never heard Edward really talk theory or anything. I knew he was smart but this was really making my head hurt. I watched them chatter excitedly in a jargon I could barely follow. Even with my excellent Art History grades, the intricacies of Critical Theory sometimes left me in the dust. Edward and Kate were smiling at each other as they talked and I felt like the ugly duckling looking at a pair of swans. So out of place.

I had never before felt jealous of Kate, even with her pretty face and perfect figure, but suddenly I loathed her from her shiny hair to her perfect little shoes. She was everything I wasn't -- smart, pretty, clean. She wasn't wearing old jeans held together with a layer of paint splatters. I shifted uneasily as I realized how homely I must look beside Kate. She was a perfect match to Edward's stunning looks.

The line had moved away from us and I nudged Kate, muttering, "The line ..."

Kate moved up and paid for her lunch, then waited for Edward and me as I paid for the both of us. When Edward protested I muttered that he had brought yesterday's lunch.

I worried that Kate would join us because of the way she waited for us to finish with the cashier, but as we reached her she smiled warmly.

"See you later, Bella. Nice to meet you, Edward," Kate said and shook Edward's hand.

"It was nice to meet you, too, Kate," Edward said seriously as she held his hand. I turned away and shoved my wallet back in my jeans, juggling my chips and sandwich ungracefully. When I looked up again, Kate was headed away, looking over her shoulder as her feet carried her off.

"Maybe I'll run into you again sometime." Kate waved and walked off north towards the fine arts library while we walked south towards the park, across Exposition Boulevard. There were people on bicycles zooming through and some guys tossing a ball back and forth off in the distance. Families mobbed the Museum of Natural History. The grassy area between Exposition Boulevard and the Museum was open and quiet.

"Kate's an art history major?" Edward asked conversationally.

"Yeah, Kate is Art History," I said.

"She seems nice," he said, and my mouth twisted. Edward watched me closely. "Don't you like her?"

"Yeah, I like Kate," I grudgingly said. "She really seemed to like you." Edward gave me an odd look but didn't say anything. We walked across the damp grass in silence.

Edward found a dry spot and we sat under the tall eucalyptus trees. The breeze was clean and cool and I lifted my face into it. I couldn't maintain a bad mood with such blue skies and fresh air. Edward turned his face into the wind with me.

"It smells like the ocean," I said. Edward just um-hummed in answer and unwrapped his sandwich. I turned my attention to my own sandwich, unwrapping it and opening it up.

"I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow," I said as I opened my chips. "I have plans for tomorrow morning."

"Hot date?" Edward asked wryly and I laughed as he turned my earlier words back on me.

"Yeah, a hot shopping date. Want to come with me before you go to your play?"

"Shopping? I don't know..." he said. I started stacking chips on my sandwich until half my bag was piled in there. I put the top bun back and patted it to make sure it was all in.

"It's not just shopping, it's an adventure. It's the best fucking flea market ever." I squashed my sandwich together and took a bite. As I bit into the sandwich, I glanced at Edward and realized he was staring at me. I chewed and swallowed, feeling more than a little self-conscious. "Do I have mustard on my nose?"

"Um, no. Did you just put potato chips on your sandwich?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, barbeque on turkey. Want a bite?" I asked, holding out the sandwich.

"No. I just .. can't believe you're putting chips on your sandwich."

"Then you have lived a sheltered fucking life, Edward. You should be glad I don't eat something truly repulsive like cheese with peanut butter."

"What? Who does that?"

"Alice," I said, taking another crunchy bite. "She makes peanut butter and cheddar sandwiches."

Edward hadn't taken a bite of his sandwich yet and just stared at me. "I wonder if Jasper knows about that," he finally muttered.

"I'm sure he does, and has even tried them by now. He's more open to new experiences than you are."

His expression unfroze and he cocked an eyebrow at me. "I am quite open to new experiences, kid. This winter has been full of new experiences for me, and I plan on having many more," he said archly.

I snorted. "Like what, the Rocky Horror? You wouldn't even get dressed up!"

"Actually I was thinking of the nude modeling."

"Right. I'm quite sure you've had plenty of experience being naked in front of women." Edward rolled his eyes and didn't answer. Instead he bit into his sandwich.

I continued. "And I'm sure since you played baseball with Emmett, you've surely been naked in a locker room or two. Don't guys check each other out, evaluate the competition so to speak? I'm sure you didn't need to worry how you measured up there."

Edward spluttered, nearly choking on his sandwich in the process, and glared at me as he pounded his fist into his own chest. I laughed, but reached over to whack him on the back.

"Sorry," I said when he finally seemed able to breathe again.

"Is that why Alice called me Mr. Big and Pretty last week?" he asked mockingly. I dropped my face into my hands as I felt my face get hot.

"Um, yeah, Seth may have called you that after our class..." I muttered, absolutely mortified.

"Seth? Your dinner date-slash-friend?" Edward asked. I nodded, still unable to look up. There was silence for a moment, and then Edward roared with laughter. I looked over and he was laughing so hard I thought he might roll over, his eyes watering.

"What is so funny?"

"I've been wondering why most of the guys in the art classes are so hostile and the girls are so ..." Edward grimaced and gestured wildly.

"Forward?" I filled in, thinking of Lauren, and he nodded.

"You were the only person there who acted like a normal person around me," he said.

"You must be thinking of someone else, Edward," I muttered, blushing anew. "I certainly didn't feel normal."

I still didn't, honestly. It was hard to feel like myself when I had this gorgeous creature sitting next to me, even when he was doing something as mundane as eating a sandwich. It was more than a little surreal, actually, like finding a unicorn nibbling the rosebushes in the backyard.

"No, you seem perfectly normal to me. I feel very comfortable around you. You're smart and funny and just ... easy to be with. I'm really glad we've become friends."

My heart thumped painfully. Friends. Part of me recognized that I was lucky to have at least that much of Edward's attention, but some stupid and illogical part of me wanted so much more than friendship. I felt too stupid and awkward to be a contender, like Kate. Well, it was better than nothing.

I gave him a weak smile. "I'm glad we're friends, too." Edward smiled sweetly at me and turned back to his sandwich.

Finishing my turkey and chip sandwich, I began picking at blades of grass, shredding them. Sifting through the grass, I found a bit of twisted metal. It was a cheap ring, flattened and mangled. I turned it in my fingers, feeling the roughly grooved edges while I watched Edward eat his sandwich. At one point he looked up and caught me watching him. I blushed and turned away. I slipped the ring in my jacket pocket when we got up.

We wandered around the park a little, smoking as we walked, passing the Museum of Natural Science. Edward looked at the roller-bladers, the dormant flowers of the Rose garden, the co-eds playing in the cool sun. I looked at the ground when I wasn't watching him. I found a brown feather and a broken necklace chain, putting them in my pocket beside the ring.

We didn't talk, not really, just made comments here and there about things we saw as we walked. The dome on the East entrance of the Museum. A man on a reclining bicycle. An old man with gray whiskers sitting on a bench, sleeping or dead (neither of us wanting to venture over and check for a pulse). A group of young men playing ball in inappropriately light clothing for the chill weather. It was comfortable, being with him. Too comfortable. It was weird: it felt so right being with him that it made me uneasy.

I sighed, and Edward smiled down at me. "Come on, kid, let's get back to work."

XXX

We didn't speak much when we returned to the studio, and I cranked my Blues mix up as loud as I could tolerate. I asked Edward if it bothered him but he just closed his eyes and shook his head. I let the music take me away and lost myself in painting.

When I got in the groove with a painting, time disappeared.

I remembered from time to time to let Edward take a break, but we didn't talk much. Mid-afternoon I told Edward I was ready for him to disrobe. I took a short break to walk around the studio while he got undressed. It seemed a little silly to give him privacy when in two minutes I would see every _inch_ of his nude body, but I didn't want him thinking I was asking for a nude pose because of some voyeuristic urge. Well, not JUST from a voyeuristic urge.

Paul caught me on the way back to my space and pressed a flyer in my hands for his band, which was playing next Saturday night in North Hollywood. I politely told him I would try to make it and he beamed.

Edward was back in the pose when I returned, and nude. I'd seen him nude several times, but my breath still caught at the sight of his sleek body. Edward lounged in my chair, completely at ease. If anything, he seemed more comfortable than in the morning, when he was clothed. I felt nervous suddenly, and quickly moved to start the new painting.

If I had forgotten how impressive Edward's manhood was, I was instantly reminded. The Wednesday pose had hidden his man bits, but this pose left nothing to the imagination. I considered downplaying the size of his penis, just to prevent anyone suggesting this was a porn painting.

_I am not making a giant penis painting,_ I reminded myself. _Although maybe I'd get an A from Varner, he's pretty kinky._

I threw myself into painting, and Edward relaxed further into the chair, his eyes unfocused. I briefly wondered what he was thinking about, but I needed to be completely focused on the painting. Beck flowed out of the little speakers, drowning out noises from the studio, though I caught trails of reggae from Mike's studio once in awhile. I swear, he doesn't understand there is such a thing as too much reggae. At least it was better than the Top 40 crap Jessica had subjected me to on a regular basis.

The light from the overhead windows was completely gone when I realized my back and knees were aching.

I stretched and groaned.

"What's the matter?" Edward asked.

"Ugh. Nothing, I'm just done for the day. I don't think I can keep this crap up."

"Oh. Alright." Edward picked up his robe and pulled it hastily around him as he stood up. He came around behind me to examine my progress. I twisted my arms first one way and then the other, trying to work out the kinks from standing on the hard floor for so long. Edward just stared.

"I can't believe it," he said quietly. My heart dropped, thinking he didn't like it, until he spoke again. "It looks like you're painting some kind of inner glow, like I'm lit from within. It's really amazing, it's so monochromatic, yet the skin seems to shine."

"Thank you," I muttered, feeling awkward with the compliment. Edward didn't look at me, just continued to look at the painting on the easel.

"I can't believe how you see me, it just feels unreal. Your paintings make me into something beautiful," he said softly.

"You _are_ beautiful," I said, turning red even before all the short phrase was completely out of my mouth. Quickly, I tried to cover. "Don't let it go to your head, though, I'm not known for my stellar taste in men."

"I suppose not, with Emmett on your list," he said wryly. "Besides, _beautiful_ isn't exactly the description most men want to hear about themselves."

"You didn't seem to mind being called _Big and Pretty_," I countered.

"Well, the pretty could be a further 'enhancement' of the big part," he said, lifting an eyebrow. I felt trapped by that smile, like a bird by a snake. I smiled in return, and then my stupid mouth took over again.

"Oh, and it is," I said meaningfully, and as Edward began to laugh I felt my face burning. I quickly turned to my brushes, rinsing them and setting them on a paper towel, ripping the top sheet of wax paper off my palette and tossing it out.

"You're really funny," Edward said, after he had controlled his laughter.

"Yeah, funny Bella, that's me," I laughed, trying to play off my embarrassment. Great. Nothing worse than the hot man seeing me as the funny female friend. That's the kiss of death right there. I stalked over to my cabinet and angrily began packing up for the night.

"I guess if you're busy tomorrow morning, I'll see you on Wednesday," Edward said to break the awkward silence. He walked away from my easel and began pulling his jeans on under his robe.

Without even thinking I said "No," then stopped, unable to think of any way to express my dismay at going so long without seeing him.

"What? Do you have other plans for Wednesday?" Edward asked. He had the robe off now and was pulling on his shirt. I tried not to stare at his bare chest. Hadn't I seen it enough today? What was the matter with me?

"Um, that's not what I meant. Would you like to pick up something for dinner? There's a great Thai place down the street from my house. We can get some to go. I have some of the beer left over from the party..."

"Sure," Edward said, sitting to put on his boots. "That sounds fine."

_Fine._ Great.

XXX

Back in my living room we were sitting on the floor surrounded by the carnage of our dinner of shrimp fried rice and satay and dearest crab dinner from Thai Barbecue, plus several beers. He had been telling me about his tourist ramblings around L.A., including the Santa Monica Pier and the Getty Museum, and I was trying to convince him he should visit the Museum of Jurassic Technology. He was looking at me with the expression I was becoming so familiar with. The _what-the-fuck-is-she-talking-about-now_ look. I tried to explain the concept to him.

"So, there wasn't any technology in the Jurassic era?"

"Do you think the dinosaurs had hand tools? For a smart guy you're slow sometimes."

Edward glared and opened his mouth in what I was sure would be a defense, but I held up my hand.

"It's a spoof of sorts, a cabinet of wonders. Sort of the insider's outsider art."

"I don't get it."

"It's a fake science museum. All glass cases and signage and stuff, but it's all a load of crap. It's just art."

"So if it's not real, it's art? Does that mean all artists are just faking it?" He snickered at his own joke and I swatted at him before joining in the laughter.

"Or does that just mean it's dependant on the quality of the viewer as to whether or not the artist has to fake it?" I giggled.

"Or how much money the artist is being paid?" he laughed.

"Ugh, you know all artists are whores at heart, Edward. We'll do anything for a little affirmation," I said, leaning sideways as I continued to laugh.

"Is that all it takes? Affirmation? I thought it took cash," he said, his smile softer but his eyes still dancing.

"Affirmation can take many different forms, Edward. It can be money, it can be a glowing critique, and it can even be as simple as a compliment."

"That should be easy enough to get. You're shockingly talented, and smart and adorable to boot. I don't suppose it is too hard for you to find affirmation of one kind or another."

Edward was leaning closer and I felt suddenly dizzy. I didn't think I'd had that much beer, but I was feeling incredibly disconnected, like this was in my imagination. Did Edward just call me adorable? Puppies are adorable. Confused as to whether I should be offended or pleased by the praise, I turned away, playing with my hair. He leaned back and watched me.

"Laying it on a little thick, don't you think?" I said, my lip curling. I couldn't trust myself to make eye contact. I examined my split ends.

"I'm not exaggerating. I meant everything I said." He sounded earnest, but I just snorted.

"Thanks, flattery will get you everywhere," I laughed, but it was a jittery sound, not light and flirty like I was trying for.

"You're so jumpy," he commented.

"Only around you," I muttered.

"Why would you be nervous around me?" he asked. I looked into his intense green eyes and couldn't help the truth tumbling out of me like I was in a confessional.

"I always say the most asinine things around you, Edward. I'm a total dork!"

"You're talking to the king of dorkiness," he snorted, unimpressed. I continued to tug the ends of my hair.

"I doubt that, Edward. You are not a dork in any way."

"Thank you, but you really don't know me all that well. I'm pretty geeky once you get to know me."

I shook my head and climbed to my feet, unsteady with beer and self-consciousness. Grabbing the dirty dishes, I made my get-away to the kitchen.

I threw out the boxes and ran hot water in the sink. I leaned one hand on the edge of the sink and rubbed my tense neck with the other hand. Hunched over the running water, I didn't hear Edward creep up behind me. I jumped when he put his hands on my shoulders.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, but Edward kneaded my shoulders and I sighed.

"Relax," he said softly, and I tried to do just that. He pushed my hair out of the way and I felt his fingers spread out, the tips touching my collarbone while his thumbs met on my spine. His fingers were working from my shoulders down my back, firmly working out the knots in my back from standing and painting all day.

"You're so tense all the time, like you're about to jump out of your skin. I feel like the only time I see the real Bella is when you have an easel between us," he murmured. I shivered with his words. That was painfully close to the truth. The only time I felt like a real person was when I had a paintbrush or pencil in my hand, when I was creating.

"It's the only time when you look really happy."

His fingers worked down from my shoulder blades to my ribs, and I had to grip the edge of the sink with both hands to keep from falling over. His fingers were magic and they were turning me to jelly. I could barely hold myself up and my thoughts were incoherent.

His thumbs were working circles along each side of my spine. As he worked down he seemed to become aware of the body under his hands. His fingers were nearly wrapping around my waist, with his thumbs at my backbone.

"So fragile," he said, seemingly to himself. I felt his breath on my hair, and I trembled. This was dreamlike, his hands on me. I never wanted it to end...

"Hey, Bella, is that Edward's bike in the driveway?" Alice called out as she and Jasper came in the front door.

"Yeah, he's right here," I called, my voice breaking. Edward dropped his hands and stepped back, leaning back against the stove. I reached into the sink and began scrubbing the dirty dishes furiously.

Alice walked into the kitchen, followed by Jasper. She smiled widely at Edward and me. While Alice put down the box of takeout she was carrying and began to take plates out of the cabinet, Jasper slouched against the door, his eyes darting uneasily from Edward to me and back. Edward pushed off from the oven.

"It's too crowded in here. I'm gonna get a smoke," he said as he headed to the patio. Jasper followed. I watched them go.

Alice smiled cheekily at me as she pulled out forks and napkins.

"How is _painting_ going?" she asked.

"The paintings are going great. I wish I could say the same for me," I said.

"What? What's the matter?"

"I look like a hobo and I'm going to get athlete's mouth if I spend much more time around him," I said.

"Bella, bubbeleh, I don't think your mouth is nearly as embarrassing as you think, and you only look like a hobo because you won't bother to dress better. You're hot under all that denim and art school grunge."

"What's the point of dressing all girly-girl if I'm just going to get paint all over it?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "You don't have to wear couture, but you could wear some jeans that fit instead of ones that look like you stole them off some homeless dude on Jefferson. And maybe some shoes that look less Junior high."

I looked down at my Cons. "They're really comfortable."

"So are crocs, but it doesn't mean you should be wearing them." Alice went to the backdoor and called out to Jasper that his torta would be cold if he didn't get his butt inside.

XXX

Jasper and Edward's cigarette break seemed to have resolved some issue between them and they were back to laughing and joking as we all gathered in the living room. In the spirit of Jasper and Alice's dinner choice, I mixed a big pitcher of margaritas and poured it over ice into tumblers.

Alice wasn't shy in her quizzing of Edward, and asked questions I was too shy to ask, like what the hell possessed him to leave for Santa Barbara in the middle of the night for an ex-girlfriend. I nearly choked on my margarita at her bluntness, and Edward patted me awkwardly on the back, but Alice just waited with wide innocent eyes until he answered. Even Jasper, who was acting casual and swirling his ice cubes around in his margarita, seemed to be waiting for his answer.

"Um, well, Tanya's mom ... has ovarian cancer. The doctors thought it was just a benign growth, but ... well, it's not, and Tanya is having a really hard time of it. It -- um, it doesn't look good for her mom. Tanya asked me to come up and, well, I couldn't say no." We all sat still, stunned by this news. Jasper looked up and seemed surprised.

"Man, I'm sorry. That's rough." Edward nodded, looking into his drink.

We all offered sympathy for Tanya. I drank my margarita and poured another. I couldn't imagine losing my mother. She was still my best friend, even though she was all the way in Phoenix. I shuddered at the thought of my mother dying of cancer. It was too horrible to contemplate.

I wondered still about Edward and his relationship with Tanya. He must still have feelings for her if he was willing to drop everything and go to her. I felt like I was missing something, some piece of the puzzle about him and his ex-girlfriend that would make all of this fall into place.

On the other hand, he said I was smart and talented and adorable. Adorable. Not beautiful, though. No one had ever called me beautiful. Mike had complimented my lips when we were dating, saying they were full and he wanted to touch and kiss and fuck my mouth. Several guys had told me I had nice tits, and everyone told me I had great skin. What a compliment, great skin, like I was a leather jacket.

Eventually Jasper and Alice convinced us to watch a movie with them, and after Edward and Jasper deliberated awhile they picked out "True Romance". Edward settled on the sofa beside me and I leaned my head on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he draped his arm over my shoulders and I snuggled against him, inhaling his warm musky smell. Edward smelled of cigarettes and leather and sweat, but somehow it was wonderful to me. It smelled like my obsession. I wanted to bottle it and live in it. I felt drowsy, wrapped in the narcotic presence of Edward, drunk and tired.

A short way into the movie, Edward turned and murmured into my hair, "You don't have any pimps I should know about, do you?"

"Not yet," I mumbled.

Sometime after that I fell asleep. Vaguely I remembered voices and arms lifting me and carrying me to bed. My comforter was tucked under my chin.

"Gentle..."

"Don't worry, I won't hurt her,"

"No, but she's pretty good at hurting herself. Make sure she's on her side in case she pukes in the middle of the night."

I felt my hair being moved, and the lights went out.

"Are you headed out?"

"I'm bombed, can I crash here?"

I snuggled into my pillow and into my warm comforter. "Not sleepy, mom," I muttered, and then I was gone.

XXX

**A/N**

**Diptych: A pair of related paintings, meant to be exhibited, and sold, as a single unit. Most diptychs are religious in nature, although that is not necessary. Triptychs are three paintings, and very common in religious art.**

**Pthalo: A paint color. A light acidic yellow-green.**

XXX

**Thank you to everyone who takes time to review or send me a message, I try to respond to every one. As you may know, Art School Confidential was nominated for a Faithful Shipper Award, in the category of Best Under the Radar Fic. I've no idea if it made it past the nomination stage (there were a lot of fics nominated in that category), but thank you to everyone who reads and shows support for this story.**

**Thank you's to MrsDazzled (who was sadly too busy to beta this time) and Irritable Grizzzly for keeping my margarita-induced errors in check. **

**Come visit on the forum thread, where I answer questions and will be posting teasers, the link is on my profile. Thanks to everyone on the forum for keeping me in the loop and saying hi.**


	11. 11 Millais

**A/N: ****I know, you all want to know where Edward slept last night.**

**SM owns Twilight. This story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

**XXX**

ASC 11

Millais

I woke up with a pounding headache. Too many margaritas on top of too many beers. I peeled back my sticky eyelids and blinked at my clock. Only eight in the morning. I groaned and lifted my head to peer at the glass of water that was waiting on my nightstand. I wondered if Alice had put it there, since I certainly had no memory of getting into bed last night. The last I recalled was falling asleep on the sofa, my head cushioned on Edward's chest.

I sat up and gulped down the glass of water, feeling a hint of relief from the pounding. Next I needed some food in my stomach.

I was surprised to find that I was still wearing my jeans and sweater from yesterday, but it was further proof that I hadn't gotten myself to bed on my own. How pathetic.

I showered and dressed, and headed to the kitchen, but a sound from the living room made me turn that way.

On the sofa, snoring softly, was an auburn-haired blanket-wrapped burrito of a man I could only assume was Edward. I recognized the tousled hair and the one fine-boned hand sticking out from under the ugly fleece blanket Alice had bought on La Cienega.

I stared. Edward, asleep on my sofa. It was like a Christmas present, all shiny and perfect under the tree.

I crept to the kitchen.

Nearly twenty minutes later I had coffee brewed, sausages cooking and was sliding the third batch of pancakes onto a warming plate. Edward stumbled into the kitchen, looking as worn out and squinty as I felt. Even rumpled, though, he was beautiful. So unfair.

"You cook," he growled, his voice raspy as he stumbled over to the coffee pot and stared at it.

"There are lots of things you don't know about me," I said, and he grunted in agreement.

I pushed a mug in front of him and watched furtively as he poured himself a cup and slugged it back. His face was scruffier than usual, a noticeable shadow around his chiseled jaw line. I wanted to touch it and see if it was scratchy or soft.

"I just hadn't figured you for the domestic type," he muttered. His usually velvety voice was gravelly with sleep, but still made me tremble.

"Cooking is my only domestic talent," I smiled. Squinting, Edward smiled crookedly in return, and I felt myself blushing. I cast about for something to get the rumpled Adonis out of my kitchen so I could concentrate and stop hearing innuendos in everything that come out of my mouth.

"Why don't you take a shower, it'll make you feel better," I said. Edward nodded. I told him where to get a towel, and he ambled off, coffee mug in hand.

Jasper and Alice were up soon after, lounging about in their robes. With everyone settled around the dining table, Edward in one of Jasper's button-up shirts, we dug into my breakfast of pancakes, sausages, and coffee. Jasper and Edward fell on their food as if they had been starved for a month. Alice and I ate, but slowly, and exchanged an amazed look with each other when Jasper growled at Edward as they reached for the same lonely sausage.

Edward surrendered the sausage and the crisis was averted. We all sat back and a collective sigh went around the table.

"Ah, thank you for a home-cooked breakfast," Jasper sighed. "A man could get used to this treatment." Edward smiled across the table at me.

XXX

By ten Edward and I were well into the flea market booths at the Melrose Trading Post, in the parking lot of Fairfax High School. Despite a heavy leaden sky and a nasty wind the flea market was crowded with every variety of people that one could imagine in Los Angeles.

I was eyeing a stuffed falcon, considering. I hadn't found the loose feathers I had hoped to, so the taxidermy bird was too glorious to pass up. Edward was examining some kind of metal contraption, standing close beside me. I wondered if he was worried about getting lost, the way he had shadowed me all morning. He'd been asking random questions, like if I had siblings, whether my parents were alive, divorced, remarried, if I knew how to ski.

"Why are you so curious?" I asked finally.

"I don't really know much about you," he said idly.

"Well, I guess now you know all the mundane details," I said, and then turned to the vendor and asked him how much he wanted for the bird. Edward waited patiently while the vendor and I argued back and forth about it, before he accepted $50, since it was a little worse for wear. The vendor wrapped it carefully and I tucked it under my arm.

"I just wanted to know the person behind those amazing paintings," Edward said and I quickly turned the subject around to him, ill at ease with the direction his questions were heading.

"What about you, Edward? Other than being from Santa Barbara and having a scary understanding of feminist critical theory, I don't feel I know much about you," I said as we wandered to the next vendor's table of priceless junk.

"What do you want to know?" he breathed, hovering so close I could feel the gentle pressure of his chest against my shoulder.

"Well, are your parents married? Any brothers and sisters? Happy childhood? Favorite musician?"

"In that order?"

"Sure, why not?"

Edward ran his hand through his hair and snorted a little. "My parents are happily married, to each other even. I'm an only child, and yes, I suppose I had a happy childhood. I mostly read and rode my bike and played baseball with Emmett, who grew up a few blocks away. Nothing too scary."

"Except Emmett."

"Yeah, except Emmett. Before he took pity on me and my bowl haircuts, I was quite the book-geek."

"You know, I have a hard time picturing that."

"Oh, believe it. The coolest thing I ever did before Emmett took me under his wing was ride my Vespa all over Santa Barbara. I was a wanna-be mod-geek, with my copy of Kerouac in my pocket."

I giggled, and tried to hide it by turning quickly to look at a table full of old radios and cassettes.

"Oh, you laugh," Edward said, teasingly. I shook my head and coughed, trying not to laugh.

"Favorite musician?"

"Depends on the week you ask," Edward said, leaning in closer so that his breath ruffled my hair. "This week, I have become very ... partial ... to ... the White Stripes."

I nodded stupidly, "Music to get naked to?"

"Nude!" he said, laughing.

We moved through the crowds. Edward leaned in closer and whispered in my ear, "Isn't she... from that TV show? The one with the ..."

I looked up and examined the gorgeous woman looking at a coat on a hanger, her long dark hair partly covered by a scarf.

"Um, yeah, I think so."

"Amazing," he whispered.

I shrugged. Living in L.A., I had gotten accustomed to seeing celebrities. One night I had sat one booth over from Nicholas Cage at Cantor's. Alice had nearly died when I told her.

The actress sighting reminded me of Edward's plans.

"What time will you need to get back to make it to your play?"

"Oh, if I'm back to your place by one I think I can make it."

"Are you meeting someone there?"

Edward looked at me oddly, "Someone?"

"A date, someone you're going with?"

"Oh. I'm not going with anyone. I was thinking..." Edward paused and looked at me like he was deciding something. "Maybe you'd like to come with me?"

"Come with you ... to see Hamlet?" I echoed, sure that he must be kidding. I kept my attention on the flea market.

"Yes, that's what I said."

"I suppose we could --"

"Good," Edward said, interrupting my lukewarm acquiescence. I was shocked. Was this ... a date? He had asked me out, but in such a lame way I wasn't sure if it was meant to be a date or it was just dread of attending the theater alone.

"What should I wear for the theater?" I asked, looking down at my jeans and Cons.

"It's just a matinee. You can dress like you always do," Edward said, glancing quickly at me. I looked down at my clothes.

"I look like a homeless person!" I cried.

"You look like Bella," he said simply. Internally I cringed. I was just a wreck all the time, is that what he was saying? Except for the Rocky Horror and Alice's Valentine's party I was always in loose jeans and ratty paint-covered Converse sneakers. At least today my hair was clean, even if it was up in a bun.

I sighed. "If we leave right after lunch and I go home to change into something less grungy, do you think we can make it?"

"I don't know. Do you really think you can get dressed that fast?"

"I can be ready in under fifteen minutes."

Edward laughed. "If you think you can get ready that fast, sure."

I sighed. Selecting an outfit for going out wasn't much of a challenge for me, as I only had two decent outfits for "dates" -- a winter one and a summer one. Since it was only the first of March I'd be wearing the "winter" one. The summer dress was much the same as the winter dress, but with spaghetti straps and a slightly shorter skirt. Winter in Los Angeles didn't exactly call for woolens.

"So, is this a date?" I asked him, all pretend innocence.

Edward looked up from a case of old jewelry with surprise. "Ah..."

"Never mind. Friends. Jeans and a sweater, Dutch, I can deal." I laughed to hide any sign of disappointment. No dress, then. I'd just change my top and be done. Edward sighed and smiled.

A few booths further on and I had found a bag of yarn in crazy 80's neon colors that I thought Emmett might like. Edward found an old green t-shirt with Che Guevara on it. We were wending our way to where the roach coaches were parked with a wide variety of urban cuisine. We settled in with a couple of falafel pitas to listen to the drummers on the makeshift stage. My curiosity got the best of me again.

"So you had a happy childhood, a normal college life, and a nice girlfriend. What's the catch?"

Edward tilted his head at me quizzically, "What do you mean?"

"What are you hiding?" I asked in a teasing tone.

He looked at his falafel, "Nothing." He took a bite, carefully watching the drummers instead of me.

"Nothing? That sounds like evasion, Edward, and friends should be honest with each other. What are you hiding?" I asked playfully, but even as I spoke I felt the cold truth of my words. I felt like there was something Edward was holding back, not just from me, but from the world.

Edward swallowed, but still didn't look at me.

"Nothing. I'm hiding nothing." I opened my mouth to protest, but he looked at me with a strangely wistful expression, "A big gaping expanse of nothing."

The joking words died on my lips at his melodramatic response. Edward abruptly turned back to his sandwich. We finished eating quickly and he held out his hand to help me to my feet. I scooped up my purchases and took his hand. He didn't let go even as he led me through the crowds, back towards Fairfax where I had parked my behemoth truck. I probably had a goofy smile at the contact, but thankfully he didn't look back at me to see it.

XXX

"I still can't believe you got ready that fast," Edward said as we walked into the matinee performance of Hamlet at the LA Theater Company. Although sound was muted by the carpeted and soundproofed lobby, he bent to speak close to my ear as we went to the black box theater. "How did you do that?"

"Magic," I said. All I had done was change into a more fitted sweater and my Mary Jane's, brushed my hair and applied some colored lip gloss. It was hardly a process requiring a great deal of time.

Edward had insisted on buying my ticket, and after a moment of resistance I accepted rather than cause a scene at the ticket office. He led me to the seats, nearly in the last row but in the center. The theater was so steeply ramped that I was afraid of losing my balance and tumbling all the way down to the first row. I had been worried that my jeans would stand out as too casual, but nearly all the men and many of the women were also wearing jeans. Even Edward, in Jasper's generic button-down shirt and motorcycle boots, didn't seem out of place.

"I feel like I should have popcorn," I whispered to Edward as we settled into our seats. He chuckled.

"Maybe some Milk Duds. Do you think they have Milk Duds?" I murmured. Edward lowered his head and covered his face as his shoulders shook.

"Bella, you can't have popcorn in the theater," he said quietly.

"I know, I just like teasing you," I said. "I have been to the theater before. I'm not a total plebian you know."

"Something other than Rocky Horror?"

"Sure. I saw Peter Pan in 5th grade," I said smugly. I had been to many plays and art performances actually, but I couldn't resist teasing Edward and seeing his reaction. Edward snickered, and then the lights went down and the play began. An actor in baggy jeans and a baseball cap stepped on stage.

"Who's there?" the actor said.

Edward became serious. He leaned forward and trained his intense gaze on the stage. I turned my attention forward as well.

XXX

"I just don't think that they needed to use the gangster lifestyle as a stylistic device," I said.

"It's a modern interpretation. They're trying to find relevance to the age and place of the audience," Edward said.

I was driving us back to my house through the twilight streets of L.A. The sun had finally made an appearance in time to interfere with driving. The traffic lights were hard to see through the glare as I headed West on Venice Boulevard. I was trying to find a happy medium between the visor and the lights and was stretching my neck like a giraffe. Edward was fiddling with the tuner on the radio, trying to find a station he liked.

"So they have to put the actors in pants that don't cover their asses?" I asked, incredulously. "And I thought Ophelia was going to fall out of her little ghetto-licious get-up."

"I thought that was a bonus," Edward snickered.

"Of course you did, you're a guy," I commented with mock sourness.

Edward finally settled on a rock station. I drove past my street and straight to Versailles Cuban restaurant. As I pulled into the parking lot he looked around with a puzzled expression.

"What are we doing here?" he asked.

"I'm starved. Apparently Shakespeare makes me hungry," I explained as we climbed out of the truck and walked into the restaurant.

"I'm beginning to think everything makes you hungry," Edward commented, as we were led to a small table. "How you stay so skinny and eat like you do I will never understand."

"Metabolism," I said flatly. As we went in I told Edward what he had to order, and he listened patiently as I extolled the house specialty. Once we were seated and had ordered, I picked up the conversation where we had left off.

"I did think it was interesting. This is the first time I really thought Hamlet liked Ophelia," I mused. Edward watched me.

"Of course he did. He loved her. How could you miss that before?"

"From reading it in school and watching the Ethan Hawke movie, I just always thought she liked him more than he liked her."

"Hamlet loved Ophelia. It's why he felt like she betrayed him, and why he said the things to her that he did. He was confused about his mother and whether she could be complicit in his father's death. If his mother could so quickly transfer her affections from one man to another, how does he know Ophelia won't someday do the same?"

"His mother was a realist, and Ophelia apparently was not. You can tell it was written by a man. Ophelia got so depressed over a guy that she toddled off in a haze and drowned herself. Girlfriend needed to grow a backbone and get a fucking hobby or a new boyfriend or something! But no, she just rolls over and kills herself."

"She was devastated! The man she loved called her a whore!"

"Well, fuck him! Just like a guy, Shakespeare thinks women are so emotionally fragile they can't handle adversity."

"You think women aren't emotionally fragile? Literature would suggest otherwise," Edward said.

"Well, of course it does, Edward. Most of it was written by men! Women are much stronger than men give us credit for."

"Heartless, you mean?" He said it with a twist in his voice I didn't understand.

"No, just resilient. I don't understand why it's always women offing themselves over love. You never see men doing that." I knew my tone was getting confrontational, but I couldn't contain my frustration over this. Ophelia was a wuss.

"Men can be heartbroken, too. They just don't show it as much," Edward stated with more passion than I had heard from him before. "Men don't run around talking about their emotions to anyone and everyone. They're more likely to engage in self-destructive behaviors, like drinking or drugs or --"

"Riding motorcycles?" I shot. Edward scowled at me.

"I don't think motorcycle riding qualifies as self-destructive behavior," he said defensively.

"I'm teasing you, Edward."

"I was going to say 'criminal activity.'"

"Sorry," I said. He humphed and pushed at his water glass moodily. I could tell he was annoyed. I wondered if I had gotten too close to the mark. More than ever I was curious about Tanya and their relationship.

"Are you?"

"A criminal? No!" Edward said, apparently shocked I would assume something so unsavory. I nearly laughed.

"Oh. Although I'm relieved to find out you're not a felon, actually I was asking if you were heartbroken." Edward's intense green eyes dropped to the table between us.

"Tanya would say that being heartbroken requires having a heart," he said, and his mouth twisted.

"She called you heartless? You're not! Just look at how you helped me when my truck was broken down! How you drove to Santa Barbara to comfort her when she needed you!" I exclaimed. Edward's mouth curled, but it was a bitter smile, and he didn't lift his eyes from his plate.

"That was good manners, and nothing more," he said softly.

"As your friend, I have to say that's a load of bullshit," I said, and Edward's smile became truly amused.

"You have quite the potty-mouth, kid," he said, but I ignored the jibe.

"Did you love her?" Edward looked up at me with sad eyes.

"I ... did. I do." he said quietly, and then dropped his eyes again. "I think I always will."

"So why did you two break up?" I pressed. I knew I was being rude, and I was likely only hurting myself by pushing for answers, but I couldn't help myself.

"Sometimes love just isn't enough."

Great. Now he's quoting song lyrics by way of explanation. I waited for Edward to expand on what he said, but he just kept twisting his napkin in his graceful fingers. I sat quietly watching him for a moment until I couldn't take anymore.

"What do you mean by that?" I snarked.

Edward looked surprised. He thought about the question for a moment.

"Loving someone doesn't make all the other issues disappear. It doesn't make up for having different life goals, for having different personalities. I love Tanya, but not the way she wants me to. I can't be the man she wants me to be. I'm not cut out for the life she wants. It would kill me."

"What is the life you want?"

"I don't know. I just know I can't play house with Tanya and get a job where I wear a suit and go to work every day with a briefcase. I just can't see living that life."

"How do you know that's what she expects from you?" I asked. How could any woman want to strait-jacket the man she loved that way?

Edward sneered. "She told me so. Last Christmas, Tanya gave me an ultimatum. Either we set a date and get married, or we were over."

"And that was it? You just walked out?"

"No, I told her..." Edward looked at his napkin. "I told her that when I got back from my road trip maybe ..."

"So when you get back from this trip ..." I started to ask, but the words strangled in my throat and refused to come up. I felt like my chest was being crushed.

"No, she said no deal. All or nothing. If I couldn't commit, then maybe I wasn't as in love with her as I claimed. Until last weekend, I hadn't heard from her in over a month." The crushing sensation relaxed slightly. I took a slow breath.

"Are you back together with her?" Edward just shook his head. "Do you want to get back together with her?" I asked tentatively. Edward took a breath.

"I don't know. I still don't want to get married, but ..." Edward expelled a breath, and then shook his head. "I don't think I can see getting back together with her. She's not..."

Our intense little bubble of conversation was interrupted by the waiter coming with our dinners. When he departed, we didn't continue the conversation. The mood had been broken. For awhile we concentrated on our food -- a half a chicken reeking of garlic and onions, plantains, black beans and rice.

"Does Jasper know about this? Is that why you two were fighting Friday?" I queried.

"Yeah, Jasper thinks I'm jerking Tanya around."

"Pardon me, but why does he give a fuck?"

Edward sighed. "Jasper and Tanya had a thing a couple of years back, when she and I were on one of our many breaks. Emmett took Jasper with him to Santa Barbara on a visit. Jasper met Tanya ..." he gestured and rolled his eyes. "They went out for a month before she dumped him to get back together with me."

"Is he ... jealous? But Alice..." I was confused. What an incestuous little circle I'd fallen into!

"I don't think he's jealous. He just doesn't think I'm good enough for Tanya." He shook his head as if to clear those thoughts. "I don't want to talk about this, Bella. It's all in the past anyway. Fresh start. Let's talk about other things. What are you doing for spring break?"

"It's still over a month away," I protested.

"You must have some idea of what you'll be doing," he insisted, though he looked sad and distracted.

"Well, Alice and I had talked about going to Cabo, but now that she's with Jasper, I'm not sure I want to be a third wheel. What about you?"

Edward chewed and thought before responding, "Now that I'm out of school, spring break has much less significance. Besides, I'm planning to be on the road before the end of the month." He didn't look at me as he spoke.

Gone. I felt a hollow place starting to grow inside my ribs. He was here now, but he'd be gone soon. I'd have to make the most of my time with him. I poked at my chicken. I never could eat the whole thing, but tonight my appetite was waning quickly. We continued with the inconsequential small talk through the rest of our meal.

I dragged Edward out as quickly as the relaxed Cuban waiters would allow, and drove back to my house in silence. We parted in the driveway, Edward telling me he should get home and rest because he had to work in the morning, as he put on his helmet and buckled the strap under his chin.

"Yeah, it's so draining to hold still for three hours," I laughed. He smirked, but his eyes still looked sad.

Before I could change my mind, and before he could have any warning about my actions, I stepped close to Edward and threw my arms around his neck, drawing his head slightly down and towards me. Going up on tiptoe, I pressed my lips to his, softly, gently. A friendly kiss. His mouth was silky, his full lips moving slightly against mine. That small touch of lips sent a spark straight through me, almost as if I had just licked a battery. A warm, sexy, garlicky battery. It wasn't like I had imagined kissing Edward would be. It was better.

Before Edward could even respond, I drew back to grin up into his face. His eyes were shadowed and unreadable, but a slight smile curled his parted lips.

"I don't think you're heartless, my friend, you just have to find where you belong."

Suddenly, without any action on his part, I felt self-conscious. Edward was very still, his hands not moving to touch me, and I felt a rush of terror that I might have overstepped the boundaries of friendship. I quickly dropped my arms and stepped back, turning to take the three steps to the front door in one leap. I fumbled with the key and looked back. Edward was still standing there, watching me, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.

"Thank you, Bella," he said.

"Anytime," I replied earnestly. I watched as Edward pulled down his goggles and swung onto the motorcycle, starting it with one sharp kick. He smiled at me and roared off down my drive, down my street and off into the velvet night.

**XXX**

**A/N: I am not planning to write any chapters of ASC from Edward's POV, though I might be convinced to write an EPOV outtake at some point down the road. I can be bribed with chocolate and reviews.**

**Huge thank you's to my wunder-betas, the amazing Irritable Grizzzly and MrsDazzled (though MD is offline for now and was not able to beta this chapter). Thanks to sleepyvalentina, SubtlePen, NoMoreThanUsual, Just4ALE and the ladies at the Gazebo, you all know why.**


	12. 12 Lichtenstein

**SM owns Twilight. This is my story. I lived it, I keep it.**

XXX

ASC 12

Lichtenstein

In the next days I flung myself into my painting with a frenzy, barely eating, barely sleeping. When I was home I sat propped up in my bed and drew. Always the same thing. Edward. I drew him from memory: his hands, his feet, his eyes, his lips.

I dreamed of him. I dreamed of his soft lips against mine. I dreamed of his soft voice, my hand enclosed in his. I dreamed of his smell. I tried to concoct a color for that smell, but it eluded me. Brown for the nicotine and leather. A touch of ochre for the scent of his skin, musky but clean. A hint of bright green, something clean and fresh about him, like the grass in Exposition Park after a rain.

I realized I was wholly obsessed with Edward. I had been avoiding the possibility, but as I sat in my studio late on Monday night, looking at the paintings I had already done and the drawings I had tacked to my wall as references, I realized I was already hip deep without being conscious of what I had wandered into. All my thoughts revolved around him, what he looked like, smelled like, moved like. I wondered constantly what he thought and what he would do next.

I wondered if it was obvious to everyone around me. Horrified, I wondered if my fixation was obvious to Edward. Oh god, I hoped it wasn't obvious to Edward. That would be the height of humiliation. Here I was, a woman of twenty-one, mooning after a man like I was a hormonal teenager.

The worst part was that I was completely helpless in the face of my obsession, unable and unwilling to drive Edward out of my mind. If I had thought that painting him would relieve me of my fascination, I was wrong.

Sitting in my ratty armchair that still smelled of Edward, I looked at my sketchbook and ran a finger along the drawn lines of his body. I didn't care if his heart lay elsewhere. I didn't care if he was leaving. For now, in this one way, frozen in graphite and acrylics, he was mine.

XXX

Wednesday morning I overslept, the product of late nights and restless sleep. I was trying like mad to get myself together for my nine o'clock class, even though I knew I'd likely be late, when I heard a roar outside and, shortly after, a knock at the door. Alice and Jasper were already gone so, cursing loudly, I ran to the front door and flung it open.

Edward was leaning on the doorframe, rolling a cigarette, and looking like he'd just stepped out of Rebel Without a Cause. He was smiling sweetly at me.

"What are you doing here?" I gasped, utterly flummoxed by his presence.

"Kidnapping you to serve as my tour guide to another fun-filled day in La-la Land," Edward said, grinning crookedly at me.

"What?" I asked. My mind was not processing his words. My eyes were locked on his hands rolling that cigarette and his tongue licking the paper to seal it. I stared stupidly at the motion of his tongue between his lovely lips.

"I'm taking you to Disneyland, kid," he said, putting the cigarette in his mouth and feeling in his pocket for a lighter. He seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on me.

"I'm already running late for class, I can't miss --" I babbled, my eyes never leaving his mouth as he lit the cigarette and puffed it to life.

"All the more reason to ditch out and play with me today."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to make my mind catch up with what he had said.

"Why me? Why don't you get Emmett to go with you?"

"Emmett has a critique tomorrow and between that and the way he's freaking out about getting into the student show I can't see him relaxing enough to have fun."

"Well, I've still got that scholarship to apply for, you know. It's not as if I can take a day off," I railed, starting to come out of my Edward-daze. He ignored me to light his cig.

"Come on, Bella. I could just go to Disneyland by myself and then you won't have a model today, anyway. You might as well have some fun," he said, squinting at me.

Damn. He had a point. I wanted to go, do something silly -- with Edward. The prospect of spending another whole day with him was very inviting. I bit my lip in indecision.

"Come on," he said, his green eyes soft and sultry as smoke wreathed his face. He knew I was weakening and was turning on the charm. How could I say no to those eyes, that softly pleading voice?

"Oh, alright," I said, "But you are going to be modeling for me tonight when we get back!" I left him standing on the front doorstep while I turned back to fetch my shoes and a small purse.

"Get a heavy jacket," Edward called from the open front door.

"Why?" I asked. My brief look outside had shown me that although it was cool this morning, it would likely warm up to something more pleasant.

"Because it gets chilly on the bike," he said, and I paused for a heartbeat before rummaging madly through my closet for my black leather jacket. Adrenaline coursed through me at the thought of riding behind Edward on the big motorcycle.

Moments later I was out the door, locking up and turning to Edward as he leaned against the bike. I bounced over to him. Suddenly realizing I was way too close, my shyness kicked in and I dropped my eyes nervously.

I looked down at the cigarette still burning in his fingers. Gently, I took the cigarette and turned it to take a drag. I nearly coughed up a lung when hot ash went down my throat.

"Careful there, kid. You're used to things with filters, right?" _Yeah_, I thought, _everything except my mouth_. I nodded and Edward patted me on the back.

When I started breathing normally again Edward handed me a helmet and helped me pull it down over my head and fasten the chin strap. His fingers lingered for a moment at my throat, and then he pulled the face shield down and tapped me on the top of the helmet playfully.

"You ever ridden?" he asked casually, putting on his own black helmet and riding goggles. I nodded. I was nearly bouncing, a combination of anticipatory terror and sheer excitement.

"Yep, once or twice."

"Good deal," he said and swung one long leg over the bike to mount. He looked at me.

"Ready, kid?"

I paused for a moment, eyeing the bike with a sudden twinge of apprehension. It was a lot bigger than Mike's Honda. I shifted my feet fretfully for a moment and Edward's grin widened. He held out his hand. I took the proffered hand and scrambled onto the back of the Triumph with a complete lack of grace. I tentatively settled myself on the rider's seat, which was little more than a padded beam over the rear wheel.

The passenger seat was slightly higher than Edward's. When he set my feet on the pegs, my thighs were tucked snugly around his lean hips. I put my hands tentatively on Edward's ribs, but he grabbed my hands and pulled them around himself, overlapping my fingers on his chest and in so doing, I was pulled tightly against his back.

"I don't want you falling off, kid," he said. "Just don't squeeze so tight I pass out, okay?" With that he slid his left hand between our joined legs to start up the motorcycle. He revved it once and we took off.

It was headily intimate, Edward between my thighs and my arms wrapped around him, my pelvis pressed tight against his lower back. The feel of his body and the bone-deep vibrations of the bike as we headed down Jefferson were thrilling, sexual. I let my body relax into him without leaning too heavily into him, letting his body guide mine. When he leaned into a turn, I leaned with him. I wove my fingers together and felt the muscles of his chest move as he guided us through traffic. Even sitting slightly higher than Edward I could barely see over his broad shoulders, so I just watched Culver City flash by and enjoyed being so close to him.

We stopped at a light just shy of the onramp to the San Diego Freeway.

"You still back there?" Edward called over his shoulder and I yelled back an affirmative. "You're a natural, kid, just hang on."

The light turned green and he opened up the Triumph and we raced down the coast. I was already in the happiest place on Earth. Nothing with mouse ears was going to come close to this.

XXX

Although to an outsider Edward would have seemed quite reserved for Disneyland, to me he seemed dramatically different. Edward was nearly giddy, smiling goofily at the psychedelic flowers on Alice in Wonderland, or laughing at my squeals on Space Mountain. As we walked through the line for Small World he leaned in and breathed in my ear, "Is it just me or are the animal topiaries unusually creepy?"

I twisted to look up at him, squinting in the winter sun.

"Are you fucking stoned today or are you one of the pod-people?"

He leaned away from me in surprise. "Neither. I'm just feeling good today."

"Right. Where is my emo-boy model? What have you done with the real Edward?" I gave him my best suspicious look, but he just laughed. It was refreshing but more than a little strange.

"Can't I feel good, being with my friend in the happiest place on Earth?" he asked as we moved up into the white and gold clockwork building.

"I suppose you can. It just seems so ... weird coming from you."

"I didn't realize I was being so moody around you. I'll have to be more conscious of my behavior," he mused, eyeing the animatronic dolls. "I've changed my mind, the topiaries have nothing on these things for creepy," he said abruptly.

The pimply teenager in line behind Edward snickered and I glared as we moved along.

Edward seemed manically tense on Small World and he breathed a theatrical sigh of relief as we stumbled off.

"There's no way the makers of that ride weren't stoned," he said. "That was like some weird Bad Seed zombie musical. I'm going to have nightmares about that song for a week."

This was a new side of Edward, something lighter and younger. I felt more comfortable teasing him.

"We'll just have to find something tamer to cover up the terror of the zombie-dolls. How about the Matterhorn next?" I asked, skipping a little to keep up with his long strides. Edward nodded and turned in that direction, but my attention was caught by the frozen banana vendor. "Wait."

Edward came back to where I had stopped, rooting around in my purse for the money to buy a frozen chocolate covered banana.

"Why not get an ice cream?" he asked, handing a bill to the vendor before I could find the money.

"No ice cream here, just frozen bananas. Besides, it's better for you." I thanked Edward for the treat, feeling a bit awkward. He'd already insisted on paying for parking and my entry ticket, and I was feeling a bit uncomfortable about that. I had only managed to pay for one thing, a Maleficent t-shirt from the Villains shop, and that was only because Edward had been distracted by the display of Ursula stuffies. He seemed overly generous for just being a "friend."

We resumed walking towards the Matterhorn ride, but slower this time, since I was nibbling on the tip of the banana and contemplating how I could repay Edward. As we neared three men sitting on a bench speaking Spanish, Edward's head snapped towards them and I felt him tense beside me.

"Those guys...they just said something really rude about the way you're eating that banana," he said to me in an undertone.

The way he said it gave me an idea of what they might have been saying. Without pausing or making a conscious decision, I bared my teeth in a silent snarl and abruptly bit into the banana. Hard. Then I shook my head like a dog with a bone. So to speak.

I chomped roughly through the first two inches of banana and I slid my eyes over to the three men as we passed them. The combined looks of horror and shock were nearly as amusing as watching the one closest to us slam his knees together. I looked at the ground and tried to hide a smile.

Edward turned his face into my hair and shook with contained laughter.

"Do you think they'll be saying anything like that about me again?" I asked when we were out of earshot.

"Oh, Bella," Edward gasped. "I don't think they'll be saying anything about any girl with a banana for a very long time. You crack me up, kid."

I gave Edward a bite of banana and we finished it just as we reached the Matterhorn bobsled ride. I'd never been to Disneyland in the off-season during the week, so I was thrilled when I realized we could pretty much walk right on to any ride.

Edward slid onto the bobsled bench seat and gestured for me to join him. I hesitated for a moment. The ride flunky huffed impatiently. It was a pretty intimate ride, and I'd almost be sitting in his lap. The other seat was already filled, so there was no choice, and I hopped in the sled to sit in front of Edward. With a little thrill of consciousness over my actions, I slid back until my body touched his.

Edward chuckled as my back came gently in contact with his chest.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Don't be shy, kid, relax. Pretend you like me."

"I am relaxed," I said, and realized how defensive I sounded as I said it.

Edward slid his hands around my waist and pulled me tightly against his body. From shoulder to knee I was joined to him. It was like on the motorcycle, but in reverse, and his wide shoulders curled around me. I could feel the sharp bones of his pelvis against mine and the lump of his firm package pressing into my ass. A tremor of lust ran through me. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steel hand rails of the bobsled.

"Hey, kid, unlike you, I don't bite," he murmured into my hair. _Maybe_, I thought giddily, _I want you to_. Images of Edward's mouth on me made me arch into him, and his arms tightened on my waist.

"I only bite bananas," I objected hoarsely, and Edward laughed.

"Then should I be protecting my banana?" he chuckled, and I blushed, remembering my comparison of him to a bowl of fruit.

"I didn't know banana was on the menu," I said, my mouth getting ahead of my brain, as usual.

Before he could respond the bobsled started with a lurch and we were climbing. If I thought I was close to Edward before, it was nothing compared to this, with gravity helping press my weight into him. I relaxed and felt his body ease to accept my weight.

"So will you protect me if I get scared on this ride?" Edward asked, laughing.

"No, emo-boy! I'll feed your sorry ass to the yeti first," I said, turning slightly to give him an arch look. The sultry stare Edward gave me made me turn back around quickly. That look, combined with the feeling of his body all over mine, might just make me do something the employees of the mouse would certainly frown upon.

My thoughts a-whirl, we plummeted through the fiberglass mountain and fake snow. My mind was in overdrive. If I didn't know better, I would think Edward was flirting with me. He had told me about his undying love for his ex-girlfriend three days ago and now he's hugging my body into his and making suggestive comments about his banana.

"Are you flirting with me?" I asked as we climbed a second ramp. Edward nuzzled my hair and my breath quickened.

"I'm just feeling grateful you came with me and I didn't have to ride like this with Emmett."

"Emmett would squash you," I laughed. Then we were launched off again and we couldn't speak until we were at the bottom of the ride.

As we waited to get to where the ride flunky would unbuckle us, Edward released his hold on my waist. Before I could regret the motion, one of his hands touched my chin and gently turned my face to his.

"Wha --" I squeaked, but then his mouth was touching mine in a feather-light kiss. It was barely more than a brush of his lips, but I gasped and my head fell back.

"Thank you," he said in his deep, soft voice.

"For what?" I panted, recovering slowly.

"For being yourself," he replied. His eyes were burning through me.

"Come on, loverbirds," the tubby attendant said as we jerked to a stop in front of him. "Make out time is over."

"You just wish he was yours," I snarked at him as I climbed out, trying to hide how loose and wobbly my knees were. Edward leaped out lightly and placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked out.

"Do you think I should have given him my number?" he asked as we passed out of the shadow of the Matterhorn.

"And break Emmett's heart? How could you?" I asked with a snort of laughter. He threw his arm over my shoulders and squeezed me under against his side. As seductive and tingly as the Matterhorn-riding had made me feel, it was easier to be with Edward when he was in this light-hearted mood than when he was looking at me as if I was a chocolate covered banana just waiting for a bite.

"Come on, kid, I want to hear you squeal on Space Mountain again."

"You don't have to take me on Space Mountain to hear me squeal, Edward."

"Oh? What do I have to take you on to get you to make those kinds of noises, Bella?" he asked, his soft voice adding to the suggestiveness of his question.

I stopped walking, and looked at Edward, shocked by his surely unintentional double entendre. I felt heat rising over my cheeks. Edward seemed suddenly conscious of the hidden meaning of his words and rolled his eyes.

"That's not what I meant. Only mouse-sanctioned squealing today, Bella," he teased. I sighed and pulled a mock-mournful face. He laughed and took my hand to drag me to Tomorrow-land.

XXX

We returned to my house well after dusk. I stumbled off the big motorcycle and waited patiently while Edward removed my helmet and stowed it in the saddlebag. While he removed his own helmet I patted the seat fondly like you might pat a horse on the neck.

"_Gracias, La Poderosa_, good job," I said. It had just come flying out of my mouth. Maybe the beers and carnitas we had at the Mexican restaurant on the way home influenced me.

Edward stopped and stared at me. "You speak Spanish?" he asked accusingly.

"Um, not really. Si, cuanto, burrito, puta, chingas..." I went down my short list of Spanish vocabulary.

"Wow, you can curse in two languages?" Edward asked in awe.

"Fucking straight," I laughed. "Sadly, that is the extent of my Spanish."

"But you just called the Triumph _La Poderosa_," he said, jerking his head at the bike.

"Yeah, it was the name of Che Guevara's motorcycle in 'The Motorcycle Diaries.'"

"I know that. Why did you give my motorcycle that name?"

"Well, it seems fitting, the Mighty One. Does it already have a name?" I asked, perplexed by his question.

"No," he said, and I could hear the disbelief and laughter in his tone, as if I was asking a silly question.

"Well, there you go. Now it has a name."

"_La Poderosa_ broke down before the journey was complete. That's not a very good omen," he said.

I pursed my lips. "I think it's very optimistic. And far more fitting for your Triumph than for the original." Edward looked from me to the bike, then back. When he tilted his head and gave me that lazy smile I knew I'd won him over.

"La Poderosa. Thanks, kid. Now she's ready for anything," Edward said, taking my hand and leading me to the front door.

Once inside, I turned on Edward. "My turn now, emo boy. You owe me. Get your shirt off and get ready for me."

Edward's eyes widened for a moment before he regained his usual smile. "You sure do like taking charge, don't you, kid?"

"You know it. Besides, you promised," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you backing out now?"

"Not at all, just give me a moment," Edward said, and ambled off to the bathroom.

I went to the kitchen and started up a pot of half-caf. I needed something to pep me up, but I didn't want to stay up all night. While the coffee brewed I went to the dining room and pulled my sketch book out of my book bag, along with my favorite soft graphite drawing pencils and my mp3 player. Heading to the living room, I hooked my mp3 to the speakers and scrolled for some mellow late model Beck and left my sketch book and pencils on the coffee table. Returning to the kitchen I pulled out two mugs Alice had made in ceramics last year and put sugar and milk in them in preparation for the coffee.

I heard the bathroom door open, but Edward didn't appear in the kitchen. I waited until the coffee was done and poured it into the mugs. With the coffee in hand I went to the living room, but he wasn't there. Confused, I looked out the front door and saw his bike was still there and he wasn't having a cig on the doorstep. I headed back through the dining room and kitchen. I walked down the hall towards the bathroom, but before I got there I looked in my bedroom.

Edward was sprawled across my bed, shirtless and barefoot, on his back. His head was thrown back and one hand lay lightly across his chest.

"Um," I said, and then stopped, unsure what I could say that didn't sound confrontational about Edward being half-nude in my bed. I didn't mind, but I was a little surprised. "Edward?"

"Mmm?" He didn't move.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied, his eyelids fluttering but not opening all the way. "I'm just tired. I haven't slept much since Sunday and I guess it's catching up with me. Do you want me to move?"

"Ah, no. I'll be right back."

I hurried to the living room and stuffed my sketch book under my arm so I could carry the coffee mugs and went back to the bedroom. I put one coffee on my nightstand and the other on the dresser where I could reach it while sitting in my yellow thrift-store rocker. I opened to a fresh page and began to draw.

"Thanks for coming with me today, Bella. I had a great time."

"Me, too." I slowed my hand to draw the way his wrist gracefully arced and his fingers lay across his smooth chest. The slower speed seemed more sensual than a quick gesture, more fitting. "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

"Mm. I've been up writing. It's all your fault."

"My fault? What did I do?"

"After our conversation on Sunday I went back to Emmett's and started writing, about Tanya, about love and relationships," Edward said, speaking without opening his eyes. His voice was lower than usual, almost raspy. "It's a bit like an exorcism."

"Ridding yourself of evil spirits?" I asked. I had always seen that juxtaposition of sinner and saint in Edward, but I had chalked that up to projecting my own fears and desires onto him. Maybe he felt it as well.

"Sort of. I realized I've been carrying around a lot of guilt about how Tanya and I ended, when really she was the one who ended things. She had to realize what my answer would be..." his voice drifted off, then he cleared his throat. "It's been really cleansing. I'm driving Emmett crazy, though."

"Poor Emmett," I said.

"Don't feel too bad for him. The clickety-click of his knitting needles has kept me up more than once," Edward chuckled softly. "Now I'm keeping him up with the clickety-click of my laptop keys."

I hummed in agreement, my mind only halfway on the conversation. I shaded the muscles of Edward's chest while I thought about my own roommates. Jasper and Alice had been relatively quiet since their first tryst on Valentine's Day. I assumed they were conscious of my presence and were keeping it down.

"What about you, Bella?"

"What?" I asked, startled from my thoughts about Jasper and Alice and loud sex. Edward had opened his eyes and was looking at me with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Why are you carrying guilt around?"

"What makes you think I have guilt?"

"The way you paint, like it's an imperative. It's as if you're holding off evil spirits with images of angels."

"Everyone has things they regret, Edward. Mine are nothing special."

I quickly sketched his face as he watched me, the curve of his cheek with the shadow of a beard. I felt a twinge as I dismissed his concern. I felt he saw too much in me that I would rather not reveal.

Evil spirits. Edward's pose, reclining in my bed, reminded me of the Fuseli painting _The Nightmare_. He seemed not terrorized by the creations of his subconscious, but still under their sway. In my imaginings, Tanya crouched on his chest like a gargoyle, holding him down.

Perhaps someday he would truly exorcise that spirit. Though he hadn't said it in so many words, I knew that was why he needed to go on his expedition, to free himself from her influence.

Though his face was still turned to me, Edward's eyes had drifted shut, and I realized he was asleep. I finished a second drawing and then stretched. I was tired, too. It had been a long and wonderful day.

I tried to rouse Edward, but he was deeply asleep and all I accomplished was getting him to turn on his side and off of my comforter.

With him in this position I could see most of his tattoo of the book labyrinth. I was glad his writing might help him find at least part of his way through the maze.

I looked at him and considered my choices. I could leave him in my bed and sleep on the sofa, or be really rude and shove him to the floor. Neither option was as attractive as just climbing into my own bed and leaving him where he was.

Shrugging, I got ready for bed and turned out the light. I slid under the comforter, pulling it up around us. Edward shifted a little and I waited to see if he would wake. When his breathing returned to the slow steady rhythm of sleep I moved up against his back and curled my body around his. I nestled my face into the hollow between his shoulder blades, my nose right by where I knew his tattooed book was, and drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the warm smell of fascination.

XXX

**A/N: I love Disneyland. That banana incident? Completely true story, I did that. Those guys probably still remember me with terror. **

**Huge thanks and virtual hugs to my betas, Irritable Grizzzly and MrsDazzled (who suggested this chapter be titled "Sexual Tension So Thick You Could Cut It With A Knife"), and special thanks to Princess Bella24 for correcting my Spanish. **

**Thank yous to SubtlePen, Just4ALE and Valentina. You know why. And kisses to all the Gazebo-ites, just because. **

**Just so you all know, this story is not strictly autobiographical but IS based on my experiences in art school and the experiences of my friends. It is not meant to be a faithful representation of my life. My own life reads like a crack fic and no one would believe it.**

**I love hearing what readers think, so please review.**


	13. 13 Rauschenberg

**A/N: SM owns Twilight. This story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

**Sorry this took so long. This chapter wasn't actually in my original plans, but it needed to come out this way. **

**XXX**

ASC 13

Rauschenberg

With my face pressed into Edward's warm back, I dreamed.

I was drawing him, as he lay completely nude on my bed, watching me. I devoured him with my eyes, greedy for every inch of his body. In my dream, his skin was so pale it shone like pearl. He looked more like a sculpture come to life than a man. If he was a work of art, I was his Pygmalion, the artist creating the perfect mate.

Edward watched me as I stood and crossed to the bed. He had the greedy look I'd seen when he kissed me and as I came closer I realized my clothing had disappeared, burnt to ash. I stood before him, naked and skinny and scarred, and I didn't care.

I reached down and stroked his cheek. Edward closed his eyes and smiled in pleasure. I leaned down to lower myself onto him, but when my body came in contact with his, he dissolved into a whisper of smoke which curled out from my lips. I was left lying naked in my bed, with the scent of Edward all around me, but I was alone.

I heard voices, and the sound of my door opening, but I couldn't even turn my heavy head to see if it was real. I heard Alice's voice and then the door closed again. It was so vague I wasn't sure if it really happened. Then the dream shifted.

I dreamed of the heat of Phoenix. I was standing in the sun, feeling it beat down on my face, my chest, my arms as it poured down my body like the warmth from a furnace. I relaxed with the heat.

I was lounging in the backyard of my mom's house. Ashley and June were there, we were all together, laughing in the sun.

"Bella!" Ashley cried, and I turned to her. "Come on. Let's go out, it'll be fun."

I wanted to say no, that we should stay home, but my dream self wasn't cooperating. I nodded and grinned at her, even as my brain was moaning in terror. I wanted to shake my dream self as I drifted behind June and Ashley to the car...

Then Edward was there in my dream, holding my hand. I relaxed. Surely he wouldn't let us go anywhere tonight. Ashley and June were safe. I was safe. I sighed and the dream vanished. I slept deeply.

XXX

I woke in stages, different realizations making their way through my drowsy brain. I became conscious that I was being cuddled by a man. Edward was in my bed, I recalled, as my brain began to function. I realized our positions had reversed in the night, and now I was curled up on my side with Edward wrapped around me, nearly encasing me in his heavy warmth.

The third thing I realized was that though he was still asleep, his breath tickling my neck, not all of him was sleeping. I knew there were parts of a guy that would wake up earlier than others and Edward's early riser was a rough denim bulge against my ass. I was both mortified and excited by the contact. I knew better than to take it personally, though.

I didn't want him to know I had slept next to him. It wasn't as if anything had happened, but some sense suggested that despite yesterday's flirtations, he might not be happy to find himself in bed with me. He would likely rather be in bed with Tanya, former girlfriend and love of his life.

Gently, I tried to extricate myself from the bed and the cave of Edward's body. He stirred and pulled me closer for a moment, his pelvis arching into mine, his hand gently cupping my ribs under my breast.

His fingers pulled me tightly into his chest, like I was an oversized teddy bear. He moved against me, humming into my hair and scratching his stubbly chin on my bare shoulder. His morning wood pushed hard into my backside. Strong fingers massaged my torso, exploring the space between my breasts and belly. I froze with apprehension.

"Um, Edward?" I asked tentatively. His hand immediately stilled and I felt his entire body tense.

"Bella?" he asked softly, his voice cracking with sleep.

"I'm sorry, but, um ... you're ... " Even filter-free Bella couldn't squeak out the thought running through my head: "Excuse me, Edward, is that banana for me?"

Maybe if I were a bolder woman, the woman I wanted to be, pretended to be, I could have said that, a la Mae West, and made it all sexy and flirty or sultry, but all that came out of my mouth was an embarrassed cough. Edward's hand left my ribcage and he turned away slowly, like a criminal setting down a gun in front of police.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Bella," he said as he rolled over, drawing away from me, and sat up on the edge of the bed. "I didn't mean to fall asleep here last night. I must have been more tired than I realized."

I climbed out of bed and watched Edward out of the corner of my eye as I grabbed my robe to cover the cami and pajama pants I had slept in. He rested his tousled head in his hands and massaged his scalp. His shoulders slouched heavily and I could imagine the gargoyle sitting on them. Edward emo-model returns, I thought.

"I'll, um .. make some coffee." I tore my gawking gaze from his bare torso and dashed to the kitchen.

_Coward, idiot, obsessed fool_, I berated myself as I set the coffee to brewing. I just stood watching the coffee maker as it wheezed and popped.

I had Edward in my bed, warm and beautiful, and I had to open my big mouth and scare him off. Well, he didn't want to be with me, anyway, I thought angrily. He was probably having a hot sex dream about his ex-girlfriend and was horrified to wake up grinding up on me and not his dream girl.

I turned when I heard him clomp into the kitchen. He was dressed in his clothes from yesterday, rumpled and unshaven, and yet still so beautiful it took my breath away.

"Bella, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep in your bed," he said again, running nervous fingers through his tousled hair, not raising his eyes from the floor. Definitely feeling guilty.

"No problem, Edward. I tried to wake you but you were dead. It must be a welcome change from sleeping on Emmett and Jasper's sofa."

He grunted out a laugh and rubbed his face. "Yeah, I don't think I've slept in a bed for over a month."

"Forgot what it felt like?" I asked as I turned to take down coffee mugs and pour our coffee. Edward's mouth quirked as he took one of the mugs from me and gulped it black. I dressed my coffee up with milk and sugar before taking a sip.

"Something like that," he said softly, looking into his mug intently.

"Are you modeling today?" I asked, desperate for something to break the stiff silence between us.

"Yeah, this afternoon, for Varner's class, I think."

"Maybe I'll see you on campus."

"Do you want to get together for lunch or something?"

"Sorry, I've got 'The Clapp,'" I said. At Edwards horrified look I realized how it sounded. "No! I mean, I have an appointment with Professor Clapp. He's my advisor. Everyone just calls him 'The Clapp.'"

Edward nodded vaguely. "You had me worried there," he said.

"Tomorrow?" I asked.

"Lunch? Or modeling?" he asked, sounding strangely indifferent.

"Yes," I shrugged.

"Sure. When do you want me there?" Our matching tones were falsely casual, but I couldn't bring myself to say any of the things that swirled in my head.

"Whenever." The silence stretched out awkwardly. Edward drank coffee and nervously scratched the back of his neck. I watched his throat as he swallowed. "Hey, I hope I didn't put you out too much, taking over your bed?" he asked abruptly.

"I already told you, don't worry about it," I said, wishing he would stop apologizing. If he didn't, I might just blurt out that I wanted him there every night. I held my mug in front of my face like it could shield me from him somehow.

"Right," he muttered. "Well, I'll see you later."

"Yeah," I said. He moved close, leaning over me. For an insane moment I thought he would kiss me. I could almost feel his body through my robe, but he reached past me to put his mug in the sink and drew away without any contact. I blushed and turned away.

"Bye," I said faintly as he walked out. The front door closed gently and then I heard the cough and roar of his motorcycle starting and fading down the street.

I took a shaky breath and headed to the shower, berating myself. Was I trying to push him away? Yesterday, with all the fun and flirting, it seemed that he liked me as more than a friend. Although he kept calling me 'kid,' like I was a bratty little sister, that kiss hadn't felt brotherly. Did I want him to kiss me, to touch me, or was I going to be a chicken shit?

And here I was, so obsessed with him I could barely think straight, and acting like a rude child. I needed to take a shower and clear my head.

Letting the hot water in the shower pour over me, I replayed the sensation of waking to his body curled around mine. The sound of his sleepy voice saying my name, his overnight growth of beard tickling my shoulder. The skin of his chest and arm draped around the bare skin above my camisole. Just thinking about it made me feel languorous and heavy. My hands smoothed down my wet skin and came to rest between my thighs, moving slowly as I replayed the sensation of his heavy arm wrapped around my torso, his fingers tucked into the crease under my breast. Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut and just enjoyed the sensation of him.

Dressed and feeling a little more alert, if no less confused about Edward, I went back to the kitchen in search of a granola bar and more coffee. Jasper was there already, eating a bowl of cereal while leaning against the counter where I had been earlier.

"Was that Edward's motorcycle I heard earlier?" he asked, not looking up as I refilled my mug.

"Yeah." I didn't look up from my preparations.

"So you're sleeping with your model now? What a cliché, Bella," Jasper said with more than a little sarcasm. I stopped to give him a venomous glare.

"Not that it's any of your fucking business, Jasper, but nothing happened in my bed last night but sleeping."

"Like that's believable," Jasper snorted.

"I don't really care what you believe, it's the truth. Nothing happened."

"Bell, I don't want to talk smack about Edward, but he's not good boyfriend material."

"He's my model, not my boyfriend."

"He's got --" I cut him off.

"I already know about Tanya. I even know about you and Tanya. I get it. You're giving Edward a hard time because you haven't gotten past this bimbo who wasn't into you. You know Jasper," I said, continuing without pause when he opened his mouth to speak, "Maybe you should stop fooling around with Alice and decide what you really want, because from here it looks like you're stringing Alice along when your feelings are really somewhere else. Do you honestly care about Alice? Because all this Tanya bullshit has me thinking you're just fucking my roommate for shits and giggles."

Alice walked into the kitchen for the last bit of my rant and looked from me to Jasper.

"What's that? Who is Tanya?" she asked, stepping around me. Her eyes were huge. I gestured to Jasper, letting him know he had the floor.

"Ali, she's nothing, just a girl I went out with..." Jasper said, his hand going out toward Alice. I snorted.

"If that's all she fucking is to you, then why are you giving me and Edward so much crap for doing nothing?" I asked.

"Edward's been leading Tanya on for years with false promises and shit, running around behind her back, and then ditching her for this stupid road trip. Do you really want him doing that to you too?"

"Since when do you care about who I fuck?" I yelled at Jasper.

"Since it looks like you're fucking Edward!" he shouted back. We glared at each other. Alice gaped at us.

"If I didn't know about your history with Tanya, I might think you were looking out for my welfare. I think you need to take a hard look at yourself, Jasper, if you really want to see hypocrisy in action," I said in my iciest tone.

Before I gave into the desire to kick Jasper in the nuts, I stomped out, leaving him to Alice. As I grabbed my bag and headed out the door I heard Alice talking to Jasper in an accusing tone of voice that made me feel a little sorry for him, "Tell me about this Tanya person."

Only a little sorry.

XXX

I didn't pay much attention in Art History and got confused when the teacher began laughing at one of her own jokes. No one else seemed to be laughing about Abstract Expressionism, so I just went back to staring moodily at the Rothko images on the screen and thinking about how Jasper was a douche.

I rushed out of my morning class to make it to my counselor appointment on time. Then I sat twiddling my thumbs while Professor Clapp finished with Paul. I flipped through my sketch book and tapped my foot impatiently.

When Paul came out he greeted me with a cheeky wink and asked if he'd see me at Saturday's gig. I barely spared him a thought as I agreed to attend while making a mental note to ask Edward if he would be interested in going with me.

Mr. Clapp looked over my transcripts and hmm-ed a few times before eyeing me.

"I see you've only got twenty-seven units and your senior show to finish up. Good job. So, Miss Swan, do you have plans for this summer?"

"Yeah, I applied for some assistantships: Penland, Vermont, and Anderson Ranch. Berty and Varner gave me recommendations."

"And what are your plans if you don't get into any of those?" he asked.

I bit my lip and considered. "Maybe take a workshop somewhere, or apply for a summer assistantship here?" Mr. Clapp nodded but then he looked concerned.

"Well, let's see what pans out, shall we? If you need some help with the applications, just make an appointment. Of course, you have access to your space in the 300 studio until August 25th, so if you're here you can take advantage of that and get a jump on your thesis project. Have you been in any non-student exhibitions?"

"Um, not yet, but I'm applying for that Scott scholarship, and I have been getting my work photographed," I said weakly.

Clapp nodded. "Good, that's good, but don't neglect your work. You should be spending your time in school finding your voice. You'll have plenty of time to get a gallery once you graduate."

"So, I shouldn't be showing?" I asked timidly, confused. I knew of several students who only talked about showing and galleries, never about art itself. They could list all the curators in L.A.

"Oh, goodness, if you get into shows, go for it, but the most important thing is that you not let the artwork suffer. Always remember that. For now you should be focused on creating a cohesive and intriguing body of work for your thesis."

Clapp shuffled papers and I could tell he was switching to another topic. "Speaking of your thesis, for your fall schedule you're pretty much done with all your General Ed requirements, but you need another elective to round things out. Do you want to take the intermediate level of mixed media? Or how about Intro Ceramics?"

I agreed to ceramics and he made a note in my file. I figured making pots couldn't be too hard. Alice had done it, and she was design, not art. Mixed media had really taken a lot of time and I wasn't sure I should do that to myself in my senior year.

We discussed a few more facets of my senior year schedule. It was agreed I'd take a fifteen unit course load in the fall and twelve in the spring, to give me time to focus on my thesis project. Of those twelve, six would be seminar and thesis, so I would spend most of my time in the studio.

It was a little weird, I thought as I left Mr. Clapp's office, to see the end of art school looming. Another year and I'd have to figure out how to make a living.

I was still a bit distracted when I arrived at Berty's class. I was running a little late, but I managed to get an easel in a decent location, next to Seth. Siobhan was our model today, a large and rippling woman with a mane of red hair. She settled into a reclining pose and Berty twittered around, giving advice.

I was squeezing out paint onto my wax paper palette when Seth leaned over and said, "Where were you yesterday? You missed all the excitement."

I ignored the question and asked, "What excitement?"

Seth grinned. "Apparently some guy was walking around the painting department yesterday stark naked. No one noticed anything out of the ordinary until he walked over to the science building," he said, waggling his eyebrows for effect. Behind us I heard Lauren snort derisively.

I looked over my shoulder at her. "You have something to say?"

She glared at me with all the power of her ice blue eyes.

"How was I to know he was a perv?" she asked. "I thought the guy was a model headed to a life class."

Seth ignored her. "I thought maybe it was your boy-toy, Edward," he said in a wry undertone.

"No, Edward wasn't on campus yesterday." As soon as it was out of my mouth I wanted to take it back. Both Seth and Lauren became still, watching me expectantly.

"And you know this because ...?" Lauren asked pointedly. I turned to her slowly.

"Surely you would have recognized if the naked dude was Edward, by his package if nothing else?" I said rhetorically.

She blushed and turned back to her canvas. "It wasn't him," she muttered.

"People!" Professor Berty cried as he approached us. I realized we'd been louder than we should. "Show respect to your model and your fellow artists!"

We turned to our paintings without any commentary. I let myself get lost in Siobhan's folds and bulges, her pale unblemished skin so like Edward's. Just so much more of it. She had a cool and regal look on her face while she modeled, if not for her red hair and size she could have been Cleopatra cruising down the Nile. A nude queen.

After Siobhan left to get dressed and we were packing up for the day, Seth asked if I had checked the gallery to see if I had gotten accepted into the student show.

"Is the jurying done? I thought Christopher Knight was coming to jury today!"

"No, he came yesterday. I guess it threw the gallery out of whack for a little while, they didn't have everything ready. The list went up this morning," he said and headed off to clean his brushes.

Although I felt sure Seth wouldn't have said anything if I hadn't gotten in, my heart faltered. I didn't dare get my hopes up. I couldn't bear to be disappointed. I hurried through clean-up, but it seemed to take forever to rinse the paint from my brushes and pack up my old tackle box.

I stowed my gear and shot down to the gallery. The gallery's big double doors were standing open with a list on the door of accepted works. There were a few art students crowded around a list on the wall. I reached the gallery, my tunnel-vision focused on the list. I was so intent on my goal that I squealed when strong arms grabbed me from behind and lifted me clear off the floor.

"Swan!" Emmett roared in my ear. I swatted at him and he just laughed.

"Emmett, you thug, put me down! I can't read when you're swinging me around!"

Emmett put me down and I saw why he was so excited. There, in middle of the list, was _McCarty, Emmett_. _Poor Jasper_, I thought. That would be one lost wager he'd never forget. He'd have a spike in his dick to remind him.

Most of the accepted entries were seniors, though I was glad to see Seth had gotten a painting in. I moved down, biting my lip in apprehension. There, far down the list, was my name, _Swan, Isabella._ Twice.

"Both my paintings got in!" I squealed, wheeling around to Emmett.

"Of course they did, Swan. You're a prodigy," he said confidently. He held up a fist and I shyly bumped it, then I screamed in delight. "Let's go look at the rejects, that's always good for a laugh," he whispered conspiratorially, looking like the mischievous little boy he was.

"That's not very nice," I replied, looking shiftily toward the gallery. A few students were going in and returning with their art which hadn't been accepted. Lauren glared at me as she came out and flipped her silky hair over her shoulder. "And I don't think we're allowed..."

"Jasper is working today, so he'll let us in," Emmett said, and hauled me in. I didn't resist, knowing it was futile anyway.

We began peeking at the piles of paintings and prints leaning against the walls. A table held a cluster of bronze, clay, and mixed media sculptures. One sculpture looked like the bog monster created from chewed pink gum. Butt ugly. I pulled a face and turned to the paintings.

"Here you go, Swan, I think we have a winner!" Emmett whispered. Well, he stage whispered. He could probably be heard in Malibu. "Look! A pointillist matador!"

I looked and made a gagging noise. "Nasty. Look at this one --" I pulled a very boring print away to expose a hideously rendered homage to Michael Jackson. "Ugh. He looks worse than he did in Thriller"

" Ew. How could anything be scarier than how he really looked?" Emmett asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Even Koons couldn't have out-kitsched that monster. Look at this ..." he gestured to another painting, but before I could get more than a glimpse of what looked like a blow-up of a gynecological exam, Jasper came around a corner of the floating gallery wall and stalked over to us.

"What are you two doing in here?" he hissed.

"Just checking out the competition," Emmett said innocently. I tried not to laugh and ended up making a noise like a mouse being stepped on. Jasper shot me a foul look and I scratched my nose to cover my smile.

"These are the rejects and you know it, McCarty," Jasper said coldly. "If you aren't here to pick up rejected work you will have to leave." Emmett drew himself up to his full height, just a hair taller than lanky Jasper but twice as wide, and squared his shoulders.

"Relax, Mister Bureaucrat, we were just going," Emmett said, matching Jasper for chilliness. He sauntered out, slow enough to show Jasper it was his own idea, grabbing my hand and hauling me along with him as he went.

Once out of the gallery and down the hall, Emmett swore. "Damn, Jasper has never been that uptight about losing a bet before. Is he on the rag or something?"

"Maybe he's got something else on his mind," I said, trying not to make eye contact so I wouldn't give anything away. I had a feeling that the dick piercing only added to the whole Tanya debacle this morning. Emmett shrugged, obviously already bored with Jasper's attitude. I hated that it bugged me so much and wished I could shrug it off so easily.

"Whatever. We've done a good job. Let's celebrate with burgers and beer!" Then a look of mock realization came over his face. "Wait," Emmett said as he took my arm and turned us in the direction of the campus pub. "Are you old enough for the beer?"

"Jackass!" I laughed. "I turned twenty-one last September!"

"That's right," he said, slapping his forehead. "You are underage no more. Now the only birthday to look forward to is when you are old enough to get the senior discount."

I curled my fingers into Emmett's thick arm and trotted along with him. Giddy with relief over the student show and feeling more unalloyed satisfaction than I had in ages, we headed to the campus pub.

XXX

Emmett grinned at me, his dimples making the suggestive light in his eyes seem deceptively innocent.

"My couch rat didn't come home last night. Do you know anything about that or should I send out the cops?" he asked slyly.

I nearly choked on the beer I was in the act of swallowing and ended up with some of it going up my nose. I snorted and blushed and Emmett laughed.

"Edward fell asleep at my place last night," I admitted, trying to clear the sharpness of the beer out of my sinuses.

"Hm, he seems to do that. Maybe we can share custody. I had him for the past month, and now you can keep him for the next month..."

"Or until he leaves town?" I asked without thinking.

Emmett just winked. "He seems to be getting awfully comfortable in Los Angeles. I think he'll find a reason to stick around a little while longer."

I toyed with my plastic drink cup. "I don't know about that."

"Come on, Bella, stop being coy with me. Just jump that boy's uptight ass and be done with it. It'll keep him out of my hair and I'm sure both of you could use the fun."

"We had plenty of fun yesterday," I said and blushed again as Emmett whooped delightedly. "Not that kind of fun! We're not fucking each other, you jerk-off."

"Well, that makes sense for Edward. He's always been a bit slow to catch on if you get my drift," Emmett said. I was intrigued to hear that Emmett seemed to think Edward was a shy lover. With all that Jasper had been intimating it seemed he had a different view. Emmett continued, "But you! I'm surprised you haven't tied that bad boy to the bed and taken advantage of him yet."

"Me? I'm not that aggressive. You make it sound like I'm some kind of dominatrix!" I said, giving Emmett a wry look. It was the truth, even though we'd created a reputation as sexual monsters. I'd had a mere handful of partners and I wasn't into doing anything kinky.

"You're not? I thought that's how you got Mike to follow you around for a month."

"Ugh, no! I thought his motorcycle was hot and we did it and ..." I shook my head.

"Ah, I see how it is. You don't want Edward, you're just hot for his bike," Emmett mused.

I slapped at his arm and he sloshed beer out of his cup. He licked it off his arm. I sobered almost instantly, thinking about this morning in my kitchen and Jasper's reaction to Edward.

"Jasper's really bent about Edward and me spending time together. I get that he and Edward both dated this Tanya chick, but what gives? I'm not screwing Edward, and even if I were, why does Jasper give a rat's ass?" Emmett listened calmly to my tirade and rolled his eyes.

"Jasper can be such a puss sometimes. I'm amazed he doesn't just get a box of Tampax and call it a vagina."

"Emmett! Don't bad-mouth vaginas!"

We laughed, but then Emmett became serious. "Jasper wants everyone to be happy. I guess in Tanya's case, he thinks that Edward is what she needs to make her happy, so he thinks Edward should stop dicking around and get back together with her."

"What do you think?" I asked faintly.

Emmett looked me in the eye as he responded. "I think Tanya doesn't know what the hell she wants. She's just gotten so used to Edward being around, and to be honest, he's totally fed that. Well, she thinks that's what she's supposed to want."

"What about Edward wants? Doesn't Jasper care about that?" I found myself leaning across the table, waiting intently for his answer. Emmett frowned at the question.

"Not really. He and Edward get along alright at times, but I think they're too much alike. When Edward arrived at my apartment a month ago he said Tanya had booted him out and it seemed to make Jasper happy."

"But ... Alice?!" I spluttered. "Jasper has been sleeping with Alice since Valentines' Day. Is he wanting to get back together with Tanya?"

"Oh, Jasper doesn't want Tanya back any more than she wants him," Emmett answered quickly. "Jasper's not rich enough or connected enough for her, and Tanya's sweet but she's a prissy little piece of work.

"Edward and Jasper butt heads all the time. It's just as well Jasper hasn't been home except to get some clothes for the past two weeks. They were actually getting along until that call from Tanya..."

"Rocky Horror Night," I stated. Emmett nodded.

"Jasper was there when I told Edward that Tanya had called looking for _her fiancé_ and Jasper went ballistic, accusing Edward of cheating on Tanya and fooling around with you." Emmett sighed. "They'd be funny if they weren't so fucking annoying. I mean, really. If I wanted all that drama I'd have girls for roommates, no offense to vaginas."

"None taken," I said, thinking of Jessica's pregnancy-induced breakdown. I drained the last of my beer and stared into the bottom of my cup.

Emmett nodded. "You're not like other girls anyway, Swan. If I could have kissed you without both of us laughing our asses off, I might have married you." I nearly fell out of my chair in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. I wasn't sure which was more shocking, that Emmett saw me that way or the marriage part.

"You're all the things I ever looked for: you're cute, you're smart, you're talented, and you don't take shit from anyone. You know guys line up for you, right?" Emmett winked at me. I realized we were both in the land of drunk now, past dissembling and not quite to idiocy. Maybe.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Emmett? I'm a nerdy art girl with dirty hair and paint under my nails," I snarked.

Emmett leaned over and gave me a kiss on my cheek. "And that's why you are so adorable, Swan." He got up and tossed his cup, and we left.

XXX

Art History while buzzed on beer wasn't the worst thing, but I certainly wouldn't be repeating it anytime soon. I thought I saw Edward as I made my way to the parking lot after class, but a guy running for the evening bus bumped me to the side and when I got a clear view again I didn't see anyone there.

**XXX**

**A/N: Thank you to my lovely, wonderful, always superlative betas, MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly. Without you both my overactive comma disorder would take over.**

**Thank you to everyone on the forums and boards, pimping this story and talking to me when I feel like I'm talking to myself. Thank you to everyone who listens to me ramble on about this story. You know who you are.**

**Especially, most of all, thank you to all the readers (that would be you, yes you!) who have this story on alert, who have this story on their favorites, and who review. **

**I'm working on an outtake chapter of this story in Edward's POV, it will be posted in the next few weeks as a separate story.**

**I love hearing what readers think, so please review. If you ask questions I will try to answer honestly without giving too much away.**


	14. 14 Schiele

**A/N: If you know your art history, you will know what is coming. **

**SM owns Twilight. This story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

**XXX**

ASC 14

Schiele

Friday found me in the studio, naturally. Sometimes it seemed more my home than Alice's bungalow where I slept every night.

I kept my music loud and my hands busy to prevent my thoughts from pinging around madly.

Emmett. _Tie that man to your bed._

Clapp. _Focus on your artwork._

Jasper. _He's not good boyfriend material._

Edward.

Always back to Edward. In my house, in my bed, in my art, and in my brain. I couldn't get rid of him. I didn't want to get rid of him. In a twisted, masochistic way, I enjoyed cuddling up to these difficult thoughts of my beautiful model.

XXX

I was crouched on the floor, drill in hand, when Edward's boots appeared before me. With the drill still poised over the painting, I quickly yanked out an earbud with my free hand and peered up at him.

"Hey," I said.

Edward knelt beside me to look at the painting I had been about to drill into. While he examined the painting I examined him. His hair was still wet, dark and uncombed. He'd shaved and his smooth cheek gave off a faint woodsy smell.

"Is this the fate of bad art? Getting drilled?" he asked.

"Only if you think it's bad art," I said, instantly bristling.

Edward held up a placating hand. "I worded that wrong. I didn't mean 'bad' like in 'not good,' but like 'misbehaving.' Did it do something wrong? Was it teasing the other paintings?"

Now soothed, I gave him a little smile. "No, I'm going to attach some things with nails."

"So, where are the nails?" he inquired politely. In response I pointed to a box on the floor by my knee, full of old nails. I had every size and description of nails and screws in there, some so rusty they were fragile. Everywhere I went I picked up odds and ends, and nails seemed to be everywhere. I stashed them and used them in my paintings. Edward looked at the nails and then at me.

"So drilled and then nailed?" he asked teasingly.

I sniggered and his lips curled into that heart-wrenching half-smile that told me he was fully aware of the sexual connotations of his comment. He wanted to play, did he? After my conversation with Emmett I was ready for a little play.

"Something has to get nailed around here," I said, and Edward's eyes widened as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

I blushed so hard even my ears felt like they had caught fire and I quickly bent back to drill a few more holes. I held the painting carefully on top of the eight-by-2 board so I wouldn't damage the drill by going through to the concrete floor. Edward stood and walked over to the wall. From the corner of my eye I could see he was examining the big stuffed falcon. I had built a shelf on Monday and set my find on it, high up the wall.

"You found a spot for your bird," he said lightly. I had the definite feeling he was trying to change the subject. Of course, being me, I let him.

"Yeah, I put Fifi where I can use him as a model when you aren't here."

"Fifi?"

"I had to give him a name. I always wanted a little dog I could name Fifi, and since it looks like I won't be getting a fucking dog anytime soon..."

Edward chuckled at my explanation. "So am I being usurped as your model?"

"Maybe. I need a model that isn't skipping town at some point, you know."

He continued studying the sketches pinned to my wall while I drilled a few more holes. There would be wire, feathers, bones, and bits of bark attached with the nails. The nails would be put through the holes and secured with epoxy. Some of the stuff would be coated with medium and painted into, and some would not.

"I guess I should be relieved," he said, sounding playful. "At least you're not having me stuffed. I went to the Roy Rogers Museum last week. Did you know he had his horse Trigger stuffed?"

"Don't tempt me, Edward," I laughed. "A taxidermy model is intriguing. No breaks, no worries about fucking movement..."

"But you only get one pose," Edward pointed out, turning to grin at me.

"Then I'd better make it a good one, right?" I asked, arching a playful eyebrow at him.

"Right." He flopped into the armchair. "So what's it going to be today?'

"Nothing yet. I'm working on finishing some of these. I need to get as much complete as I can so I can document them before the scholarship deadline. Maybe later," I said, feeling like an ass but not wanting to stop what I was doing.

"Oh." Edward sounded a little deflated.

"I'm sorry you dragged ass all the way over here. Do you want to head out and come back in about two hours?" I asked.

"No, not really," he said. My heart fell, but then he continued. "If it's okay with you I'll just hang out here." I nodded, and cursed myself for how happy that made me.

He pulled a book out of his backpack and began to read. I returned to my work, but left my earbud out.

"How is the writing coming along?" I asked, trying to make conversation. Edward didn't look up to respond.

"It's coming along. I've started writing down observations on the jobs I've worked since January, like the modeling."

"That must be interesting," I said. I thought about how weird it must be to take off one's clothes in front of strangers. It was weird enough from the artist's angle, but from the model's perspective... "That's something I'd like to read. Are you posting it anywhere?"

"What, like online?" Edward looked up, obviously confused.

"Yeah, a blog or some shit. Haven't you thought of this before?" I asked.

"Yeah, well, my advisor suggested it as a way to get my writing seen, but I wasn't feeling like I wanted everyone in the world reading it."

"You can limit who views it. It can be invitation only. It's good practice to write one even if you don't tell everyone about it or anything."

"Really?" he asked. "Do you have one?"

"Not me. My step-dad has a blog for his softball team, and my mom helps out on it."

"Hm," Edward mused. "It's an interesting idea. It would be a great way to keep track of my travels, and if anything happened to my laptop, my journal wouldn't be lost."

"That's right. It will be a way for you to share your travels, too. If you want to share, that is."

Edward seemed thoughtful, his eyes unfocused. "I don't know about wanting everyone to read it ... There might be things I wouldn't want to share."

"Worrying what your mom might think of your nude modeling?" I teased.

His eyes focused on me sharply and he frowned. "I'm not worried about what my mom thinks - not about the modeling anyway. I was thinking about my thoughts being made public."

"It doesn't have to be that kind of a blog. Just write. The more you do something, the better you'll get, right?"

"Like painting?" he teased.

"Exactly. I paint so much so I can cull out the crappy ones and just leave the best."

"You don't have too much to cull, kid, it's all good." I grimaced at the combination of the compliment and his nickname for me.

"Thanks," I said tightly, and turned back to the painting. While I worked, and Edward read his book, I mulled over why him calling me kid rankled so.

_Because_, I told myself, _you don't want him to see you as a kid. You want him to see you as a __**woman**__._

But did I, really? As I worked, moving around my space to get medium or newspaper, I snuck glances at Edward. He made me feel like an awkward child. Even with our new level of non-intimacy, unless I was painting him, I felt like an idiot around him.

About mid-afternoon, while I was sitting on the floor fussing over the placement of a feather, I saw Edward sit upright with a jerk. I followed his eyes to see a puffy-eyed Jasper standing at the edge of my space, his hands jammed in his pockets. I removed the earbuds entirely and was silent. I'd be fucked if I was going to be the one to reach out.

"Hey," Jasper said, his eyes not quite meeting my own.

I waited. Edward was silent behind me. Jasper cleared his throat.

"Bella, I'm sorry for sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. You were right, I was a jackass."

I didn't move, but just watched him. He took a deep breath.

"Edward, I'm sorry, I've been unfair to you. I know you tried to do right by Tanya, and it wasn't my place to get involved. I just ... she's a good person, and it bothered me to think you weren't treating her well."

Edward shrugged. "No harm no foul, J," he said.

"Bella, you were right about looking at myself. I haven't been fair to Alice and she let me know it. I'm sorry for judging you and suggesting you were a cliché. That wasn't fair. You're not a cliché. You're a fantastic artist and your relationship with Edward isn't my concern." His words had the feel of a carefully rehearsed speech, something he'd spent a lot of time considering. I wondered if that was all he had to say.

"Right. See you later," he said, and moved to walk away.

"What about Alice?" I asked and he paused.

"I don't know. I love her, but I don't know if she will let me ..." Jasper shook his head.

"I don't fucking care about what you said to me, but if you really love Alice, show her. If not ..." I let the statement hang in the air.

Jasper looked around at me, his eyebrows quirking with a question.

"Then just get the fuck out of her life," I finished.

He nodded blankly and walked away, his eyes down.

I looked at Edward and he stared back at me. "I expected this. Emmett told me about your talk yesterday," he said. "And then Jasper came home and slept in his bed for the first time in weeks."

"How much did Emmett tell you?" I asked, suspicious.

"Enough," he said.

I wasn't sure if I should worry or rejoice. I nodded and turned back to my work, unsure of what to say. Edward sighed and bent back to his book.

The rest of the afternoon flew by. It was a comfort to have Edward nearby, even if he wasn't modeling, even if I wasn't watching him intently. Just knowing he was near I felt more relaxed. I worked with a song in my heart.

XXX

We were sitting on the floor of my living room, again, eating Thai that we'd picked up on the way. The afternoon had been comfortable and casual, much like our day at Disneyland, but I felt tense anyway. I wondered if Emmett had talked to him about me. He'd been aloof and casual all afternoon.

"I got two paintings into the student show," I told Edward conversationally.

"Yes," he replied, "Emmett told me. Congratulations."

"It's thanks to you, you know. They're both paintings you modeled for." I felt bashful.

"Wow," he said, and fell silent, examining his noodles as though there was a secret in them.

"The opening is on Friday, and they'll be announcing the awards. Will you come?" I asked nervously.

"I wouldn't miss it," he replied. The silence stretched out while we ate, wrapped in our own thoughts.

"Is your month of getting naked for art students over now?" I asked, and Edward chuckled.

"Yep, this is my last week, and then I'm on the road -- well," he amended. "Once you're done with me, right? How is the progress for that scholarship?"

I gulped. "I have less than two weeks until the application deadline. That means I need to have the work photographed by Monday after next. Only another week, I guess."

Edward nodded contemplatively. "Then you won't need me any more," he commented.

"I'll manage. You'll have to sit for me when you get back to L.A.," I said nonchalantly, trying to squash the feeling of dismay that rippled through me.

"Whenever that might be," Edward said with a smile, and I dropped my head to hide how much that statement bothered me.

At that moment the front door opened and Alice stormed through, throwing her purse and book bag on the floor carelessly.

"Hey, chica," I said, reading tension in her jerky movements. Alice was usually graceful. Now she looked like she might fall over at any moment.

"Hey, Bella. Hi, Edward," she said, flopping onto the sofa near where Edward lounged.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, and she shook her head, swiping at her eyes and taking a deep breath. She abruptly turned to Edward.

"I want to know what you think," Alice demanded, her voice shaky but angry.

"Me? About what?" Edward yelped. If it hadn't been for the seriousness of Alice's tone I would have laughed at the unmanliness of his tone.

"Love. Do you think it's possible to be in love with more than one person at a time?"

Edward thought about her question before replying. "I think love doesn't have boundaries. You can love more than one person deeply --"

"You mean loving with your dick," Alice sneered, but Edward wasn't done. His eyes flicked to me before returning to Alice.

"But I think you can only be _in love_ with one person at a time," he stated firmly.

"_In love_," Alice repeated bitterly. "That's what Jasper said."

"Is that what he told you? He said he's in love with her?" I gasped.

Alice took another deep breath and then whispered, "No. Jasper _said_ he _cares_ about her, but he's not _in love_ with her. He_ said_ he's _in love_ with me. I told him to get lost until he had his priorities straight. I'm not going to be second-string to some other bitch."

"Aw, hell, I'm sorry, Alice. What did he say to that?"

"He said I'd always come first."

"Do you believe him?"

"I don't know. I don't know. He's been so sweet ... but then this ... " Alice drew her knees up to her chin and hugged her legs. I slid up beside her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders as she continued. "He keeps calling and leaving messages and asking to meet with me to just talk, and I don't know..."

"Do you love him, sweetie?" I asked softly, rocking with her as she choked, trying to hold back the sobs.

"Yes, I think I do," she rasped.

Edward shifted uncomfortably, and I shot him a look and mouthed _stay_. He gave me a suffering look in return, but didn't move.

"Do you want to give him a chance?"

"Yeah," she said softly.

"Then let him come to you. The next time he calls, answer. Let him make it up to you. I don't think he meant to hurt you, Alice."

I rocked her and she calmed down. Edward relaxed a little, though the alarmed looks he gave Alice showed me that the presence of a crying woman unsettled him. After a few minutes of sniffles Alice began talking about the things she liked about Jasper. Things like how he kissed the palm of her hand and how he always complimented her cooking. How he looked into her eyes when they talked, like she was the only woman on the planet...

Just then her phone rang and Alice scrambled for her purse. She checked the display before answering. I knew it was Jasper. She walked to the kitchen with the phone, her voice too low to make out the words. Edward looked after her and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Ah, young love," he quipped. "Do you think they'll make up?"

I pursed my lips. "I don't know. Alice isn't the sort to give up on a guy, but he's going to have to put in the effort."

"I think he'll try, though I'm not sure I'd take a bet that he can talk his way out of this." He paused and seemed to be thinking. "Would you?" Edward asked, still not meeting my eyes.

"Would I what?"

"If you were Alice, would you take him back?"

"None of the freak shows I've dated would be worth that kind of drama," I sighed.

Edward only responded with a quiet 'huh.'

Alice came bolting out of the kitchen, grabbing up her purse and sweater on the way out the front door. She called out something that sounded like "I'm meeting Jasper, don't wait up," and then was gone like a tiny tornado.

Edward and I looked at each other and started laughing. I covered my mouth with my hands to stop the hysterical giggles.

"The odds are looking better for Jasper," he commented.

"They do make a pretty fucking cute couple," I said.

"Yeah, I think so too," Edward said.

"Do you really forgive him?" I asked, rolling my head back on the sofa to look at Edward. He was still looking towards the front door, and I studied his brown hair curling behind his ears.

"I think his heart was in the right place, even if his mouth wasn't. He seems more than a little stressed out these days."

"About what?"

Edward turned towards me and rolled his eyes. "His senior show, graduation, everything. He lets these things get to him. You'll be a little stressed out when it's your turn, kid."

_Again_ with the kid thing. He was making our age difference sound like a gap of decades, rather than a little over a year. My annoyance made my retort sharper than I intended.

"I've got plenty of stress myself, but you don't see me being such a pisser."

"Yeah, painting seems so stressful," Edward chuckled, and it really set me on edge.

"You don't have any idea what the fuck you're talking about, Edward." He leaned back with a startled expression as I ranted. "It's not the act of painting that's stressful. It's making a painting that's worth making, the pressure of competing against all the other art students, and for what? Did you know that only one percent of BFAs make a living as an artist? The rest are flipping burgers to pay off the student loans, but you know what? I don't want to just be in that one percent."

"You don't?" he asked, clearly confused.

"No." I paused, biting my lip. I had never revealed exactly what I wanted to anyone. It was my secret fantasy. Of course as an art student, I wanted to be an artist, but I wanted more than just to make art. I dropped my head and pulled my braided hair in front of my shoulder as if I could hide behind it as I continued.

"I want to be famous. I want to have my paintings in books and on posters and t-shirts. I want kids to study my art in school. I want to live forever through my art."

I toyed with the end of my braid, my fingers twisting the strip of calico I had tied around my hair.

"That doesn't seem so odd," Edward said finally. "I guess I'm not any different. You're just a lot closer to getting where you want."

I looked up. He was staring at the floor pensively.

"How do you figure that?" I asked, and Edward's attention snapped back to me.

"Well, look at you. You're actually painting and putting yourself out there for evaluation. The student show, and this scholarship thing. You put so much energy and passion into your art, that must matter, right?"

"If no one likes my paintings, it makes no difference that I'm painting them," I pointed out. My nervous hands were untying my braid and twining my hair. It fell over my shoulder in ripples.

"But don't artists paint to please themselves? So what if a bunch of suits on a scholarship panel don't like your art? It's not the end of the world."

I sighed. "I won't pretend I don't need the money, I do, but it's not just about the money. It's the recognition, and the jurors on this scholarship… well, they are all big in the L.A. art world: collectors, curators, donors. Patrons. Getting in front of them, getting this scholarship, well, it could open doors that are worth more than money."

"Is it that important to you?" Edward asked.

"Art isn't the biggest thing in my life, Edward, it's the only thing." He stared into my eyes, as if trying to see through my statement to find some hidden truth.

"But what about all the rest of life? Fun? Friends? Family? Love?"

"Art is the only thing I can rely on. It's the only thing that can't be taken away from me. Friends and family leave or die or stop calling. Love ends in heartbreak and I think painting_ is_ fun. Don't you see? Isn't writing like that for you?"

Edward blinked and seemed to turn inward. "I never thought of it that way. You're braver than I am, though. At least you're trying. I'm too shy to even let anyone read my writing. If a person writes and no one reads it, does it matter?"

"How Zen of you," I said with a roll of my eyes. "I don't subscribe to that hippie crap, you know. You choose to let people read your stuff or not. What are you waiting for?"

Edward grimaced.

I sighed. "How about this: start that blog we talked about. You don't have to give anyone the address. Heck, like I said, you can even restrict who reads it. Just write whatever. When you are ready, you can share it with whomever you want."

Edward swallowed and nodded. "You're right."

We ate in silence for a little while before Edward continued on our previous thread.

"Emmett and Jasper don't seem quite as obsessed with it as you do," he commented casually. "Does that make them posers, like Curly Girl?"

"They're just as serious as I am; they just aren't admitting it to your face. Emmett and I used to have long talks about all this. We both think the main thing, the most important thing, is the work itself. The rest is just trimming."

"You know," Edward said casually, eyeing me with a smile. "I have a bit of a beef with you."

"Oh?" I bleated, alarmed.

"You have a tattoo," he said accusingly, looking at me from under his lashes.

"Yeah," I said, oddly relieved. I didn't know what I thought he could have revealed that would have made me nervous, but my ink wasn't on my mind. I relaxed.

"I thought you didn't like tattoos," he said.

"It depends on the tattoo," I shrugged. "It has to mean something, you know? Not just be another flaming skull or cheesy rose or some crap like that. I don't have anything against tattoos, I just don't like people getting them so they can be all 'edgy' and 'counterculture' and shit."

"So you were just disdainful of Curly Girl having a tat, but not tats in general?" I nodded in agreement. "What is yours?"

"Didn't you see it yesterday?" I asked. It was on my shoulder and was revealed by the cami that I had slept in the other night.

"Just a little, but not enough to tell what it was." he said.

"Frida Kahlo's _Little Deer_."

Edward tilted his head to the side like he knew the painting. "May I see it?" he asked, and waited patiently.

I hesitated, biting my lip in indecision. I felt self-conscious about removing my shirt in front of Edward. Even though I was wearing a modest bra, and although I knew Edward had seen pretty much all of me there was to see in the video, taking my shirt off for him in person seemed so very intimate. Still, he had taken off much more than this in front of me many times over, so it was only fair. Before I could change my mind, I peeled my long-sleeved t-shirt over my head and turned my back to Edward.

The tattoo wasn't huge, but it went from the edge of my shoulder to my spine and was partly covered by my bra strap. Edward leaned closer and brushed my hair out of the way to get a clearer view. I shivered as his fingertips gently moved the strap of my bra.

"So many wounds, yet she keeps running" he murmured. I pulled away almost convulsively. I felt like he saw too much, like I'd exposed more of myself than my bare back.

I felt his eyes drilling holes in me as I hunched and turned my face away. His fingers still traced the outline of the human-headed deer.

"Such a painful image. What kind of wounds are you hiding, kid?" he asked softly, leaning so close I could feel his words stirring my hair.

"Don't call me kid," I snapped, turning to glare at him over my shoulder. He drew back with a wary look on his face.

"Why not? Do you not like nicknames?" he asked, seeming genuinely perplexed.

"I don't mind nicknames, Edward, but I'm not a fucking _kid_ and you know it. Stop trying to make me feel like I'm a child you're humoring."

He stared at me, his expression unreadable.

"You're right, Bella. You're not a child." His eyes were intense and heated, and I felt myself falling into them. Abruptly, without my being aware of either of us moving towards each other, our lips met in a heated kiss. I closed my eyes and melted into the feel of his mouth on mine. All other thoughts vanished. There was no room in my mind for anything but Edward.

Our lips parted and his tongue swept into my mouth, tasting me. I sucked on it, letting myself revel in the invasion. Before I could fully grasp what we were doing, Edward's hands were sliding down my body, past my ribs to my waist. I reached behind me and gripped the back of his head, clutching him close to me.

We were drinking each other in. I twisted my fingers into his hair and moaned. Edward's hands gripped my hips and pulled me closer to him, somehow turning me and twisting about so that he had me pinned to the floor with his long lean body.

It was in this position that my brain -- _bad,_ _bad brain_ -- kicked in and tried to put on the brakes. _He's in love with someone else,_ my brain argued.

_And she's not here,_ my libido screamed back.

I moaned with lust and longing and maybe a trace of fear. Maybe he sensed it, because Edward drew back just enough to murmur against my mouth, "I want you, Bella."

I arched my chest against his in response and dragged warm kisses up to his temple. Edward dragged his nose along my jaw and sucked gently at my neck and I sighed.

His touch was electric. Every place skin met skin, I felt a fire ignite. His right hand was moving, cupping my breast and stroking my hardened nipple through the fabric of my bra. Edward groaned against my collarbone. I slid my hands down his back and back up, pulling his shirt up to expose that satiny smooth skin. His lips were searching along my neck, moving back to my mouth, while I arched my back to get more pressure from his hand.

"Please?" he breathed. There was only one way I could answer that question from him. I could never tell him no.

"Yes," I whispered, and then put my hands on his chest and shoved him off of me.

We panted, staring at each other. His eyes were dark and confused. I didn't speak, just took his hand and led him to my bedroom.

Once I had him in my room I felt shy again. Standing in front of my bed, I let my hair fall over my face and wrapped my arms around my chest. Edward stepped close so my head was nearly touching his shirt. He brought a hand up to my face and slid his long gentle fingers under my chin, lifting my face. I opened my eyes to him. His eyes were fairly glowing, so tender, and yet there was banked heat there as well.

"Bella," he said and I shivered with the sound of my name spoken in his deep, low voice. "We don't have to ... if you don't want ...."

I leaned my cheek against his palm and blinked up at him. Slowly I unloosed my arms and placed my palms on his chest, feeling the warm muscles, his heartbeat, before sliding them up to his neck. I wrapped my hands around the back of his head and pulled him down to kiss him swiftly on the mouth.

"Edward, I said yes," I said around his mouth, and then spoke, punctuating with kisses. "Just as long as you're still my friend and my model tomorrow, I'm good. This doesn't have to be about love. I'll take whatever you'll give."

Edward pulled back and gave me a long, close look that seemed to be evaluating my words.

"Bella," he sighed, and leaned forward to bury his face in my neck, his lips moving against my skin. With my hands tangled in his hair, I softened against him. I pressed my face into his head.

Edward kissed my neck while his hands moved over me, peeling my clothes off slowly. He paused when he found the scars under my left arm, nearly hidden by my breast. With one hand still cupping my bare right breast, his fingers traced the largest scar, a perfect circle of white. He examined it curiously.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I was intubated," I stated baldly, murmuring into his hair.

"Why?" he asked, drawing back to study my face while his fingers circled the scar.

I swallowed. "I was in a car accident. My ribs were crushed and my lung collapsed. I nearly died," I whispered.

"You lived," he said, still studying the scar.

"My friends didn't," I said.

We stared at each other, unable to look away. "Did it hurt?" he asked in a whisper.

"Like hell," I choked, remembering the searing pain when the paramedic stabbed into my side with a scalpel and stuck the tube in me. I watched as Edward leaned forward from his perch on the edge of the bed and kissed the scar, his hand coming around my back to hold me. His lips never leaving my skin, he worked the last bit of my clothing down my legs. He kissed my belly, then settled back to look me over, his hands on my hips.

I felt more naked than naked, if that was possible, because this was Edward, and he wasn't just anyone. He wasn't another art student, jaded about naked bodies. He gazed upon me and I felt warm where his eyes rested. He was smiling, that quirky smile that I found so attractive.

"You're so beautiful, Bella," he said. I could see it in his eyes, the gentle appreciation. This wasn't the cool evaluation of a painter, admiring the planes of my body for their purely aesthetic value, but the sensual eye of a lover. I stepped in between his legs and leaned into him, tugging his shirt over his head. Once his shirt was off, I let my hands become acquainted with the body my eyes had memorized, touching his hair, his back, his shoulders.

Edward kneaded my ass with his strong hands and smiled up at me before lowering his head to my chest. He kissed everything within reach of his mouth, from my navel to my throat, and back down to nuzzle the valley between my breasts and then to lick across my breast and suck my nipple so hard I squealed.

I was leaning into Edward, nearly falling onto him, my fingers touching him lightly, almost tentatively. His hands were stroking my back, molding my waist. He gripped my ribs as he twisted to lay me on the bed. Edward gently spread my legs and leaned over to kiss my pubis, where it rose up from the valley of my belly.

His hands were spreading my thighs, opening me like a book on the dark purple comforter. He was moving over me, working his way slowly up from my groin to my neck. He bit gently at my neck, breathed heavily behind my ear, and then kissed his way up to my lips, capturing me in a kiss that turned me completely to rubber.

While his lips and mine moved together, his hand was exploring my lower half. He didn't go straight for the goods, but neither did he seem to be avoiding touching me there.

Rather, it was as if he was connecting the dots of some strange and private treasure hunt, so that with each movement of his fingers and thumb, another switch was tripped, another connection made, until I was lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. From my waist to my ass, around to my inner thigh, fingertips moving from the tender join between hip and groin, and then up to my belly. It was like he was laying claim to every naked inch of me.

Edward took his time, touching me, kissing and nibbling at my lips, my neck, my collarbone. When his hand finally slid down to cup my sex I was so ready for it my back arched against him. I couldn't bite back the moan that rose out of me. I felt like the weight of his bare-chested body pressing me into the bed was all that kept me anchored.

With one hand pinning my shoulder to the bed and the other exploring the wetness between my thighs, Edward held me immobile as he dragged his mouth down my body, pausing at my breast to suck hard at one nipple, kissing the underside of my breast and continuing down.

I pushed on his head, trying to speed him to where I wanted his mouth, but he refused to be rushed. By the time his lips touched my clit I was shaking. His fingers were diving into me, thrusting and stroking as his tongue played lightly across my sensitive flesh. I couldn't take it. With a cry, I spasmed, digging fingers into his scalp and twisting away from him as my orgasm rocked me to the bone.

Before he could react, while my knees were still trembling, I was sitting up, grappling with Edward's jeans.

I couldn't believe he was still wearing clothing. He had given me the best head of my life and he wasn't even naked. All those times I had seen him nude and now I was the one completely bare while he was dressed. So unfair, I thought, as I undid his fly. Edward knelt on the bed, helping me push down his jeans and boxer briefs. I paused in admiration when I was confronted by his generous erection. After all the times seeing him in his naked glory, Edward's penis lived up to expectations.

His cock was lovely, but I already knew that. I was surprised that it was larger than I had expected, even from his generous size on the model's stand. Neither horrifically large nor disappointingly mediocre, but a healthy two fisted length, his cock was thick enough that I could just barely wrap my hand around it. Matching thought to deed, I gripped the base of his shaft in my hand and lowered my head to kiss the tip. Edward gasped and his hand knotted in my hair.

With my free hand, I pushed him back so he was lying on the bed and crawled up his legs. I lay against him, gently stroking him with one hand while I looked up into his bemused face. That perfect face that filled my dreams and my paintings.

"You are so beautiful," I said.

"So are you," he said, smiling and stroking my hair. I bent my head to his penis, licking up the length of him before taking him into my mouth. Using my hand and mouth together I took him as deep as I could without gagging. His hips rocked up to me, and I smiled, feeling him twitch. It wasn't enough. I wanted more, more of him.

With my hand still running up the spit-slickened length of his cock, I raised up.

"Edward, I want to fuck you." His only response was a moan, as he threw his head back, nearly hanging off the end of the bed.

Reluctantly, I let go of him to climb off the bed and rummage through the dresser in search of condoms. I brought the box over to the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. Edward propped himself up and languidly stroked himself. I had to pause and watch his hand move lazily up and down the turgid head of his penis.

I bit my lip, indecisive. I was torn between wanting him inside of me and wanting to grab paper and pencils to draw him. His pose was so amazingly erotic.

Later, I promised myself. I would draw him later. I turned back and hurriedly pulled a condom out of the package.

"I hope it fits," I muttered under my breath. Edward held his monolithic cock up as I rolled the rubber on. It did fit, but just.

I climbed on top of him, kissing my way from his curl of pubic hair up his lean belly to his nipples, then up to his neck. As I kissed his Adam's apple I held onto his rubberized penis and slid down. We moaned in unison. I let myself adjust to the invasion, enjoying the sensation of being filled.

Slowly, I lifted my hips and slid back down onto him again.

Edward grunted, a pained sound, and gripped my hips, pulling me tight onto him. I arched my back and pressed my body against him. His head came up and his lips were on me, nipping at my nipples, kissing a trail up to my throat.

He rolled us over without ever sliding out of me and laid me on my back. I trembled as he settled his narrow hips between my thighs. He thrust hard into me. I wrapped my legs around his hips, digging my heels into his ass and reveled in the feel of him delving deeper with each movement.

We only spoke with moans and grunts, the visceral language of our bodies meeting and plunging and biting into each other. There were no words which could express the sensations running through me, nothing which would sum up the ecstasy of feeling him inside me.

Again and again he moved deeper into me until I felt he must be able to feel my throat's vibration with the tip of his cock. His lips were always on my skin: my lips, my throat, my shoulder. As I reached my peak and he twitched within me, he bit my shoulder. A moment later he thrust harshly into me one last time and cursed loudly.

We panted heavily for several moments before Edward slowly drew away from me. I immediately wanted him back. His warmth and pressure held me tethered to reality.

I rolled onto my side to watch as he pulled off the condom, tied it in a knot, and tossed it on his clothes where they lay beside the bed.

"I'm sorry," Edward said softly, turning to look at me.

"For what?" I asked, genuinely perplexed. That had been the best sex I could recall and he was sorry?

"I just wanted to make you come. For it to be about you. I didn't mean to …"

"Don't be sorry, Edward. You are a righteous lay and it was hot as hell that you said 'fuck' when you came."

He chuckled, and seemed to relax. "Still friends, right?"

"Oh yes, still friends." I slid under the comforter and held the edge up for him. He considered me for a moment before sliding in and curling up around me. I relaxed into his embrace.

**XXX**

**A/N: Now that you've read this ... the EPOV outtake / counterpart to ASC that I promised will be up soon, titled Art School Undercover. It includes events from chapters 2-4 of ASC from Edward's perspective.**

**This story is nowhere near finished, so don't tune out just because we've had a little sex. **

**For all of you art students who have been busy watching New Moon a dozen times in the past week, I never got the impression Carlisle was such a collector of Goya, but there they are in all their bloody glory. You have to love Goya.**

**Thank yous and love to MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly for being my cheerleaders and betas and putting up with me. Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, pms, chats with me on the boards, etc. You all know who you are. I can be found on the thread for this story on the Twilighted AU-AH forum, or lurking about on the Gazebo. **

**I love hearing what readers think, so please review.**


	15. 15 Rossetti

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since my last update. I won't bore you with details. Just because E & B got it on doesn't mean we've reached the end, just the beginning of the second act.**

**SM owns Twilight. This story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

**ASC 15 Rossetti**

We didn't sleep. We lay awake in the dark, entwined like snakes. Edward lay on his back and I curled into him, my head on his chest, while his hand traced lazy patterns on my back. The fingertips of my right hand explored the body my eyes knew so well already. It was more than a little odd to touch his nipple and know how it looked as clearly as if we were in the light. I knew the curve of his hip, the shape of his navel all without seeing it, though it was new to the touch. Edward sighed heavily.

I was feeling heavy and loose in my languid post-coital drowsiness. My eyelids were drifting shut when he spoke.

"Thank you, Bella."

"You're welcome. Wait. For what?" I asked, too sleepy to really make sense of him.

"For being you. For being a friend and listening to me ramble on and be all moody. For ..." he kissed my forehead. "You know, you make me think of ice cream," he said softly.

"What?" I giggled, startled by this comment.

"You come off all cold, but you're sweet and delicious." I laughed outright then and Edward did too, shaking me fully awake.

"I am not fucking sweet. Do you really think I seem cold?" I asked in surprise. Surely not. He must be imagining things. I liked to think I was tough and no-nonsense, and though I was called a bitch more than a few times, I didn't think I appeared cold.

"Not right now, you don't seem cold," he said. "It's just that ... I was beginning to think your interest in me was purely aesthetic."

"Oh." I paused, unsure how to respond. I didn't want him to think I liked him more than I did, or that I was in love with him or anything... "Well, until you kissed me, I didn't think you were interested in me_ that way_, either."

"Wait, what? Until I kissed you? I believe _you_ kissed _me_, kid," he said.

"_You_ kissed me, Edward, and don't call me kid." I poked him in the chest and he grabbed my hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Sorry. I admit I kissed you at Disneyland, but that was a purely friendly kiss, and nothing more," he laughed gently. He let go of my hand and I stroked along his jaw to touch his ear, which was a perfect shell-shape.

We were friends, yet we were in bed. I didn't want him to think I had stronger feelings for him than he had for me and I wasn't sure what my feelings for him were in any case. Lust certainly, enjoyment in his presence and his conversation, but nothing more ... I was going to just revel in the moment, enjoy having this warm, beautiful man in my bed. I toyed with his ear.

"Ah. Friendly kiss. I'm sure you give Emmett kisses like that all the time. Does he like to look at you naked, too?" I asked jokingly.

"Emmett isn't a friend with breasts. Besides, I thought the nude painting thing was all academic for artists. A bowl of fruit," Edward commented.

"Yes, Edward, you're just a bowl of fruit to me. Really delicious, tasty, mouthwatering fucking fruit," I said. Edward gasped. "Is that what you wanted me to tell you?"

"Just as I suspected," he said.

"By the way, you have a nice banana," I teased.

"Thank you, good to know you approve," he said seriously, "But I don't know if I'm going to be able to model again knowing that everyone is checking out my banana. It'll give me a complex."

"I've checked out a lot of bananas, Edward. There's nothing for you to worry about."

"So ... was that why Alice called me 'Mr. Big and Pretty'?" he asked mockingly.

"Um, I may have said something about your ... attributes but I wasn't the one to come up with the nickname."

"Sure you weren't," he said in a disbelieving tone. "_You_ kissed _me_, I'm sure you'll lie about other things, too." I was too tired and content to argue the point, though I was quite certain he had that kissing thing completely back-asswards.

"Whatever, Edward. Sleep now," I murmured into his warm skin.

With his hand making lazy movements along my spine and his lips on my hair, I drifted off to dreams of skin and tangled hair.

XXX

"Edward?"

I woke without being sure what had roused me. After a moment of disorientation I realized that I was in my bed, naked and alone. Without even thinking about it, I murmured, "Edward?" No response.

The clock read five fifty. I climbed out of bed and grabbed my robe. In the dim light, I noticed Edward's clothes were no longer on the floor. Gone.

I drifted to the kitchen. The dishes we had left in the living room last night, in our lust-driven haste to get to my bed, were stacked on the counter. Either Alice or Edward had cleaned up. I rather hoped it was Edward. Alice would give me hell for leaving the living room a mess. The coffee pot was half-full and warm. I looked at it blearily, trying to make sense of Alice making coffee at five in the morning.

Then I realized I was hearing a noise from the living room. I padded into the front room to find Edward sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, his laptop in front of him as he typed. The keys made a faint _ticka-ticka-tick_ as his fingers flew across them. His face was weirdly blue in the glow of the screen. He scowled intently at the monitor.

I smiled. He hadn't left after all. He was right here, in my house. Maybe I sighed or made some other noise. Perhaps he just sensed my presence, but suddenly Edward turned to me.

"Bella?" he asked, and I made my way over to him and lay down on the sofa where he leaned. He closed his laptop and pulled himself up to sit beside me.

"I thought you'd stay asleep a while longer," he said softly, pulling me into his arms and kissing me on the forehead. It was the kind of kiss you'd give a kid sister but I leaned into him sleepily and enjoyed the sensation.

"I thought you'd left," I muttered, closing my eyes. I snaked an arm around his torso, feeling his lean muscularity through his shirt, and inhaled the musky man-scent of him. Unsurprisingly, he smelled like sex on top of his usual deliciousness.

"I wouldn't leave without letting you know," Edward said. The thought of him going away gave me pause.

"I wish you weren't going," I said softly.

"Hey, I thought you said this was 'just friends,' right?" Edward put his fingers under my chin and tilted my face up to him. "Did I misunderstand?"

I gave a strangled snort to show how silly the notion that I was becoming emotionally attached was, but it sounded like a whine. "No, Edward, I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I just ... really enjoy having you here. I don't know what I'll do for a model when you're gone." My feelings were a Gordian knot of perplexity, lust and longing and logic warring against each other.

"Ah, Bella, don't worry. You'll find another model. You're such a good painter, I'm sure you can use anyone and make it work," he said, smiling earnestly at me. I bit my lip. I didn't feel so confident.

"Sure," I agreed in a whisper. I pulled my face away and sat back against the opposite arm of the sofa, wrapping my arms around my knees. "Maybe when you come back to L.A. you can sit for me again."

"Maybe." He stared at me a moment, then scrubbed his scalp with his fingers. "I'll be back. Someday. I just don't know when."

"Well, I expect I'll still be here." I wanted to say I'd always be there for him, but it sounded so cheesy and emotional.

"Don't you ever just want to get away?"

"From what?"

"From things, from your life? Just escape and start over? A fresh beginning?" he asked. I paused to put my thoughts in order.

"Art and Los Angeles are my fresh beginning, Edward. I came here to create my new life after the accident." I leaned closer towards him. "What are you escaping from, Edward?"

"Nothing," he said.

"Nothing? Then why are you leaving?"

"Not from 'nothing,' From 'nothingness.' I was afraid the nothing would swallow me whole. I'm looking for something ... something real. I don't even know what I'm looking for, actually." Edward's voice was more impassioned than I had ever heard before, almost agonized.

"I understand." I said. "You need to find that thing that motivates you, the thing that makes your soul sing."

Edward looked away, and in the gray light from the windows I thought I saw pain in his expression, but when he raised his eyes to me again, he seemed more composed.

"Yes. Someday I hope I will find the muse for me," he said. I ached that I wouldn't be that muse he was searching for. I ducked my head and toyed with the sash of my robe. He was painfully beautiful, and just because I was decent enough to fuck didn't make me good enough to stick around for. I wasn't his _something_.

"It wasn't Tanya?" I inquired sadly.

"What?" he asked, genuinely startled. I felt sorry for bringing her up, but she had been weighing on my mind.

"The girl back in Santa Barbara? Her name is Tanya, right? You said you've been writing since we talked about her. She isn't your muse?"

"Tanya." He sighed again, that same sad moaning sound I had heard earlier in bed. "No, more like the anti-muse." He gave a rueful snort and turned back to me. "If it weren't for you I'd still be stuck in the creative constipation that is my relationship with Tanya. I may not be where I want to be yet, but you've helped me find the road, Bella."

I smiled, pleased and warmed by his gratitude.

"You'll find that 'something,' Edward. Remember your cookie fortune? You'll find what you're looking for in the least likely place," I said, wanting to comfort my friend, to help him find his way.

His mouth curled up in a grimace that was trying to become a smile. "Yes, I'm sure I'll find what I'm looking for when I'm not looking. Isn't that how those things always work?"

"Sure," I grinned, trying to cheer him up. "I found you when I needed the perfect model, didn't I?"

Edward chuckled and dragged me into a hug. "That you did." I leaned into him but my eyes were open, looking around the gloomy living room. The light was growing and his computer on the coffee table reminded me of his nocturnal activity.

"So what are you doing up so early anyway?" I asked abruptly.

"Writing."

"What about?" I asked. I wondered if he was writing about_ her_, but I wasn't willing to ask about her again.

He didn't answer me directly. "I was just writing about anything passing through my head. Stream of consciousness."

"Do you always write in the middle of the night?" I asked, wanting to know more about his writing.

"Not always. I couldn't relax enough to sleep and I didn't think you would appreciate me waking you up just for another round of _playing friends_," he murmured into my hair, successfully distracting me. I shivered as the idea of waking to him licking me flitted through my head.... It was an almost instantaneous turn-on.

I groaned and turned to kiss his neck.

"I wouldn't have minded," I whispered. My fingers slid under the edge of his shirt to find bare skin. Edward made a strangled noise in response. He tugged at me to move farther up his body.

"I wish I'd known that sooner," he muttered as he reached into my robe and cupped my bare breast. I ran my hands up his torso, pushing up his shirt to spread curious fingers across his chest.

We gave ourselves over to touching, kissing. His gentle hands investigated my responses to his touch. When I untied my robe to open it to him, Edward drew away and looked down at me.

"Let's go back to bed," he said, standing. I let him guide me back to my room and under the comforter. He crawled up my body like a wild animal. In the dim dawn light we touched almost lazily, but soon that laziness, fell away and we grappled with each other frantically.

His strong hands were everywhere, and with each touch on sensitive skin, I felt my control spiral away until I was nearly growling as his lips locked onto my nipple and his hands gripped me. My nails scratched his scalp and he made guttural noises in response to my own. We were feral creatures, beyond any words or affectionate gestures.

I pushed him back so I could climb on top of him, take possession of him, have my way with him. He allowed my aggression for a while, but eventually my teasing touches overwhelmed him. He flipped me over and pressed me back into the mattress. Wordlessly, he turned away to reach for a condom, and I took it and put it on him. He hissed as I gave him a squeeze and guided him between my legs.

As his cock slid into me, his lips met mine in a deep kiss. His hands tangled in my hair and clutched me frantically. I put my heels against the backs of his knees for leverage and we moved together in a furious rhythm. Mouths and hips crashed as we arched frantically into each other, each thrust bringing us closer to that place where we would become one.

His movements deepened and slowed as we neared our mutual climax. The light slowly grew and I could see Edward's face, a lock of dark hair falling down as he drew back to look into my face. Even in the dimness of the dawn light I could see the intensity of his stare, his eyes boring into mine. It was too much to bear. I closed my eyes as I reached my orgasm, feeling it vibrate through me like an electrical current. Edward groaned and shuddered as he came right after me.

He rolled us to the side and cradled me close, our sweaty bodies cooling quickly. There was no playful banter, this time, just panting breaths and light kisses on whatever body part was nearby.

Again I curled, tucked into his chest, but this time he fell asleep almost immediately. I listened to his low steady breathing for only a few minutes before I too fell asleep, sated.

XXX

When I woke to full morning Edward was still out, snoring slightly. I gently pulled away to admire my sleeping beauty in the sunlight. It was nearly ten and sun was streaming through the blinds into my bedroom. The light was nearly perfect.

I went out to the backyard and had a morning smoke, my feet tucked under my robe, while James' dog growled at me through the fence. It was cool out but not uncomfortably so. It was clear and sunny, the epitome of Southern California weather. Our brief flirtation with winter was nearly over. Maybe I'd paint in the garden sometime. A little _plein air_ painting might be refreshing.

Back in the house I padded around the kitchen, made a fresh pot of coffee, toasted a bagel and slathered it with cream cheese, as I hummed tunelessly.

I took my coffee and bagel to the sofa and ate while looking out at the crystal clear morning. The growl of a lawnmower from a couple of houses over and the faint sounds of kids playing in a backyard were the only noises on our quiet street.

I felt ... strangely content. Not just satisfied, _though I was certainly satisfied, _but an unfamiliar feeling of lightness washed over me. I felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun heating up my living room. It spread from my chest through to my toes and fingertips. It was a wonderful sensation.

It felt so free, to have found someone I enjoyed as a friend, as a model, as a lover, without the complications of a relationship. He didn't look at me as something to own. I hoped things between us wouldn't be awkward. I was sure he wouldn't suddenly think that sex meant we were tied down to each other. I didn't want that and I was sure he didn't either. We were still friends. Friends who had no trouble being naked together, friends who liked to screw each other's brains out. Why would I need a boyfriend if I could have someone fun to talk to and who was great in bed?

I was just eating the last bite of my bagel when I heard shuffling noises and the bathroom door click shut. Edward was awake. I smiled and decided to do something nice for him.

Edward came into the kitchen to find me cooking. He was wearing yesterday's clothes and his face was freshly washed, though not shaved. He stood behind me, not quite touching me, as he looked over my shoulder at the bacon I was frying.

"Mmm, bacon," he rumbled in that deep voice that made my knees tremble.

"I thought you might need some sustenance. I'm sure you're famished after last night..." I let my sentence hang and he chuckled into my hair. His hand skimmed across my hip before he moved away to grab a mug from the hook and poured himself a coffee. He took a sip and turned back. He caught me looking at him and grinned.

"Good morning," I said.

"Yes," he said and dropped his eyes to his coffee.

I slid the bacon onto a paper towel and pushed the already-toasted bagel and cream cheese towards Edward. He arched a brow at me.

"Bagel and bacon? Isn't there some law against that?"

"Why? Aren't you a Goy? It's turkey bacon, if that helps."

He snorted something under his breath and watched as I made him a cream cheese and bacon bagel sandwich. With a suspicious look he took a bite, but the change in his expression and the shrug of his shoulders told me it was acceptable.

I watched, nearly mesmerized, the way his jaw flexed as he chewed, and had to shake myself.

"Are there any other tourist spots you're hoping to see before you get out of La-la Land?" I asked.

"No, I really just want to get out on the road again," he said. The jolt of dismay I felt must have shown on my face because he quickly added, "I mean, it's been fun being in L.A. but I just ..."

"I know. You have places to go. I remember."

"Do you have plans for today?" he asked between bites of bagel. I knew what naughty things I wanted to do today but I still had a lot of work to do and a deadline looming.

I tried to sound casual. "I was hoping to draw you a bit. I had an idea for a pose last night, a painting..."

"Let me finish eating and we can head over to your studio," Edward said, waving the half-eaten bagel.

I nodded and he returned his attention to his breakfast. I nibbled on the extra strip of bacon. It was lovely to watch him eat and I felt a strangely domestic urge to cook something else for him. I wanted him in my kitchen, eating the food I'd made. I liked this, as if we were some old married couple.

Startled at the weird turn of my thoughts, I left the room before I started baking cookies or wearing a frilly apron or some equally fucked-up June Cleaver shit.

XXX

Alice still wasn't home when we left for the studio just before noon, but I figured she'd call if she needed me. If Jasper was being a jackass Emmett would probably deal with him anyway. Most likely her continued silence meant she and Jasper were busy having make-up sex.

As I drove my old truck to campus, I snuck looks at Edward as he watched the city going by. I kept thinking about how he looked up at me with lust-heavy eyes while stroking himself. It was almost difficult to make my different images of Edward mesh.

He was undeniably the same man who had taken me to Disneyland, who I had seen nude a half a dozen times in the past month, who talked about Kerouac and looked hotter than James Dean, but somehow I couldn't combine that image with the one of him naked in my bed, erect and waiting for me... I couldn't wait to get him naked again. I shook my head and laughed at myself.

"What are you thinking?" he asked. I realized how dorky I looked, laughing to myself while driving.

"Nothing much," I muttered.

He looked at me for a moment, but didn't push it.

We walked from the parking lot to the art building in silence. We didn't hold hands or anything like that, but I was aware of every long easy stride he took, every flex of his arm as he hooked his thumb in the strap of his knapsack.

With the new knowledge of how he felt and tasted and groaned deeply when he came, I felt a strange dark joy at having a piece of him, some new possessiveness. I had him. Like some weird voodoo I had found a perfect man, captured him in paintings, and captured him in flesh. He walked beside me like an angel come to earth wearing a human skin. Although I did not touch him or otherwise act differently than I had any other time we had walked on campus together, today was different, if only within me.

Someone had scrawled a huge red drippy _300_ across the door of the 300 studio, and below that "We are ARTISTS!" I snickered and Edward rolled his eyes.

"Is there a rule about artists having bad senses of humor?" he asked.

"What? I think it's funny. At least there isn't Leonidas in an artist's smock," I laughed, as Seth came out the door of the studio.

"No, but that's a great idea!" Seth said breezily and planted a kiss on my cheek. "Hey, man, modeling again today?" he asked Edward with a curt guy nod.

"Yeah," Edward answered, but he was looking at me.

"Cool," Seth said breezily and trotted off, ignoring my awkward blush.

Before I could drag Edward to my studio and close the curtain, Paul waylaid us.

"Don't forget, my band is playing tonight!" he said, catching me in a hug before I could stop him. I let him clutch me, but he seemed to realize the hug wasn't being returned, and released me with a little pat. He completely ignored Edward.

"Right. I've got the info on my wall. I'll be there," I said. I had forgotten about it but maybe I could make up some excuse later. His band was good. Really good. Garrett, the grad assistant for painting, played guitar, Paul sang lead and played bass, and a guy I didn't know played drums. I'd enjoyed them when I'd seen them before but I would rather spend the evening with Edward.

"Excellent, see you there," Paul said, obviously impervious to my lukewarm response. He gave me two thumbs up as he backed away. "And Bella? Wear something hot. Don't cover too much of that sweet little body!" Paul winked lasciviously and sauntered off as I winced. I couldn't drag Edward away fast enough. I nearly ran him to my studio space.

"He's seen you naked?" Edward inquired as he nearly trotted to keep up with me.

"To the best of my knowledge, everyone in the art school has seen me naked. That video I made with Emmett," I muttered.

"He made it sound like he'd seen you more ... in person," Edward commented.

"He thinks he's funny. Paul is quite the kidder," I said lightly. Sometimes Paul's jokes were awfully close to being sexual come-ons. I just laughed them off but that one wasn't really funny. Especially in front of Edward

"Oh," he said.

"Do you want to come to the show tonight?" I asked hopefully. Edward being there would make it worthwhile. Maybe he'd stay the night again.

"Maybe." He turned away to shed his jacket while I quickly pulled the curtain shut. Hopefully Paul wouldn't come by with another card.

Without asking, Edward stripped to his skin as I set out a new board and prepped my palette.

I cocked my head at him as he flopped naked on the armchair.

"How did you know what I wanted to do today?" I asked, though that was exactly what I had been prepared to ask of him. I felt naked myself. He knew what I wanted without my asking.

He smirked.

"Take off your shirt," he said quietly.

I gaped at him, not quite believing what he was saying. I was conscious of the ambient noises in the studio -- music coming from another students' space, the sound of the power tools in the wood shop next door, the rustlings that told me we were far from alone, separated from the other students by only a curtain. He waited, still smiling. The lust I felt was obviously returned.

"You're not nervous, are you?" he asked.

"Maybe a little."

"I've already seen you naked, Bella. You just told me the whole art school has seen you naked. You're nude right now, you know. Under your clothes you're just as naked as I am."

"I know, but ..." I said.

"You're beautiful, Bella. Let me see you."

Slowly I peeled off my t-shirt, and stood there in my plain black bra. Demurely, he put his hand on his thickening penis. I could see the lust in his clear green-glass eyes. Eyes that seemed to look into and through me. Somehow, with that look, my self-consciousness vanished. I raised my brush and painted, even as my groin ached.

We talked a little during the session, mostly playful banter and teasing innuendo. I played moody music - music to fuck to - and Edward gazed at me with desire that made me look forward to the rest of the evening. I anticipated our night at the club, Edward pressing me up against a wall, kissing me, touching me.

At the end of three hours I stepped back and evaluated the painting so far. I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to show it anywhere. It was beautiful, but so … intimate. It was the work of a lover, not an artist. Even though we hadn't touched (other than the quick kiss on parting) since waking this morning, I felt that every brush stroke had been a caress, every glance had been like his hands on me. As intimate as our previous painting sessions had been, this was somehow _more_. There was something beyond mere physical lust ...

XXX

Back at my house, I was surprised to find that Alice still wasn't home. A quick text exchange later and I learned she'd be home in a couple of hours.

Edward and I took some wine and snacks out to the backyard to enjoy the mild weather. The sun was moving down towards the horizon but the patio furniture was still in the sun and warm. I could hear James' dog snuffling around the fence, and small noises of James moving around his yard, doing something garden-ish. Probably scooping up his dog's poop.

Edward took a deep breath and smiled as he released it.

"I love this time of year, everything feels so much cleaner somehow, inside and out," he said.

"Is it like this in Santa Barbara, too?"

"A bit, yeah. Haven't you ever been?" he asked and I shook my head.

"No. I drove through it once, on my way up to Santa Cruz for a weekend," I said. "It looks pretty. Lots of bougainvillea."

His lips quirked in a half-smile. "Yeah, it's got lots of bougainvillea. My parents' backyard has a massive hedge of it. Stuff's got spikes as long as your finger."

It was the first time I'd heard him talk about his home or parents and I was intrigued.

"You have a family? Are they all as moody and emo as you?" I teased.

"All? Well, since it's just me and my mom and dad, I guess there isn't much more to it, and no, they're not all 'moody and emo'." He thought a moment before responding in a more serious tone. "My parents are very ... normal, I guess. My father's a lawyer, very driven. My mom's a nurse. She's the sweetest woman you can imagine."

"Let me guess. They want you to give up the motorcycle and settle down and become a doctor or a lawyer or something."

"Not really, no. Well, maybe the lawyer thing. Actually, they've been very supportive of my plans, even if they don't really get it. My mom always says she just wants me to be happy."

"Any shocking childhood traumas?"

"Just the usual trauma that comes with watching Barney," he said.

"Barney can leave lasting scars, you know," I said with mock seriousness. "I think you'll find that many murderers grew up watching Barney."

"Ah, well then, maybe there's hope for me yet."

"So what is so awful that you're running away?"

"Nothing awful. I just want to create more in my life than a 401k."

"You're doing that with your writing, right?"

"I guess. But I'm not there yet. You, Bella," he said, turning to look at me with that green laser gaze, "You are on that path where I want to be. You have talent and you have the focus to gain what you want. What keeps you motivated?"

I started to tell him the usual art school bullshit, about expressing myself and revealing truths about the human condition and blah blah blah, but I stopped. I wanted him to know the real reason, not the reason that would go in an artist's statement or get repeated in a seminar class.

"Fear," I said.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, seemingly surprised.

"Of not existing. Of never having left a mark on the world."

He stared at me, mulling this idea over, before nodding slowly.

"Exactly."

I held up my glass with just a few swallows of wine left. "Here's to never being forgotten," I said, and Edward clinked his glass against mine.

He refilled our glasses. We talked about other things, mostly about his growing up in Santa Barbara. Though he didn't say so outright, I had the distinct impression he was embarrassed about his family's economic status. His parents were well-off, so he'd been sent to excellent private schools. I got the impression he wanted to make his own way, make his own mark, independent of his family.

When the sun dipped behind the garage I shivered. Edward reached out for me and pulled me from my chair and into his lap.

"Let me keep you warm," he said teasingly, and nuzzled my neck with his cold nose, his day-old beard scratching me. I squealed.

"I can think of other ways you can keep me warm," I said.

There was a lot of kissing, and probably some loud moaning when I heard James yelling through the fence, "Hey, Bella, you and your boyfriend can do your porn act when I'm at work, okay?"

"This isn't my boyfriend, James. Edward is my really butch lesbian fuck buddy," I called back. Edward buried his face in my neck to stifle his laugh.

James muttered "That is just so wrong."

Still goofy and trying to keep our lips in contact, we gathered up our wineglasses and snack detritus and stumbled back in the house.

In the kitchen I launched myself at Edward and kissed him until we were both breathless. He bent me backwards into the counter, pressing into me urgently. In moments my shirt was on the floor and Edward was kissing his way down my chest. I noticed the stark contrast between the softness of his lips and the scratchiness of his beard as he kissed my belly. His long hands gripped my waist as if to steady himself. I managed to get his shirt over his head while he was on his knees in front of me, undoing my jeans.

The only scrap of logic left didn't want Alice and Jasper walking in on me and Edward fucking in the kitchen. I managed to get Edward into my room before we were throwing ourselves on each other.

There are times for a nice slow exploration of your partner, finding what the other person likes, becoming familiar with responses and details. Then there is down and dirty fucking. This was the latter.

We didn't even make it to the bed. Edward sat me up on the dresser and thrust into me. I had a hard time balancing, my ass hanging off the edge and Edward's large hands gripping my hips. I leaned back and let him take charge, and sooner than I would have expected I was moaning, crying out in ecstasy.

Edward slowed as my orgasm shook me to my toes, and I thought vaguely that he had come too. I was wrong. He pulled out and knelt quickly at my feet. Putting one of my legs over his shoulder, he buried his face in my pussy and licked and nibbled gently. I was calling out to any and every deity I could name, ready to canonize Edward himself, as a second orgasm ripped through me. Edward stood up and slid back into me. I put my arms around his neck and held his forehead to mine as we fucked. There were no words between us now, nothing but pure sensation. When my third orgasm swept me under, Edward came with me, grunting as he drove into me. We gasped into each other, coming down from the sex high.

"You," I panted, "are unbelievable."

"And you," Edward rasped, "Have no idea how much I wanted to do that this afternoon in your studio."

"Don't tell me things like that, Edward," I said with a smile.

"Why not?"

"I'll want to try it, and if we get caught, I'm pretty sure I'll lose my space."

"We can't have that."

He helped me gently to the floor and we redressed, touching from time to time. He stroked my hair as I buttoned up my jeans. I leaned against his back as he sat on the bed to pull on his socks and boots. He leaned back and twisted his head to kiss me.

"I want to head back to Emmett's. I need a shower and a change of clothes. Shall I meet you for that band thing tonight?"

"Yeah, that would be nice."

With the most amazing timing in the universe, Alice and her butter yellow Beetle arrived just as Edward was swinging his leg over his big bike. She bounded up the walk, grinning like an idiot.

"Hi, Edward. My shayna Bella! Well, that's redundant, but whatever. You're coming out with me tonight."

"Um, yeah, we're going to …"

"Hollywood! Jasper insisted I go see this band that's playing; he knows some of the guys. He said he'd have a surprise for me," she bubbled. "You two have to come, too."

"Paul's band?" I asked, hopeful. Edward just waited patiently, watching Alice and me.

"Yeah, that sounds right," Alice said and I felt a wave of relief. "Doesn't Garrett play guitar?"

"Yes," I said.

"That's the one. Come on, we have to eat and get dressed by ten so we can be there when the band goes on at eleven. That only gives us three hours, and we still have to dress you up. Edward, Jasper said he needed some help." Edward nodded.

"I'll see you there," he said, and kicked _La Poderosa_ to life. I watched him ride off into the velvety dusk. When I turned back to Alice she was eyeing me sharply.

"What?" I asked.

"Edward spent the night here again?" she asked. I nodded. "And you still didn't get any sexing with him?" she asked skeptically.

"Did it ever occur to you, Alice, that Edward and I don't have that kind of relationship?"

"Nope. Are you trying to tell me he spent the night on the sofa?" I blushed and shrugged. "I didn't think so. I've seen how you look at him. You're in love," she chanted.

"Oh, god, no!" I exclaimed. She narrowed her eyes at me again. "Really, Alice, Edward and I are just friends. I'm not really looking for a relationship."

"Well, that maybe for the best. He doesn't seem like the 'relationship' type, and you're certainly not," Alice mused. "But that doesn't mean we can't work on making sure you catch his eye tonight."

XXX

I drove my truck up to Hollywood in case Alice decided to go home with Jasper. I didn't want to get stranded. I'd likely get picked up by the cops for soliciting on the Boulevard while waiting for a cab. Try explaining that to daddy.

Alice fussed with my stereo the whole way, bitching about KROQ's sucky playlist even though she finally left it there. I didn't mind. If she wasn't going to put on KXLU, the Loyola Marymount station, I didn't really care. It was something quirky and punky, perfect for the evening, and we found ourselves singing along with the chorus as we headed up Fairfax.

The club was in a back alley halfway into a canyon. I had to park on a steep hill and hold tight to Alice as I stumbled down the sidewalk in a pair of borrowed stiletto-heeled boots. I was cursing the day Alice found out we shared shoe size.

"I can't believe I'm wearing this," I muttered, relieved when we reached flat ground and walked towards the club. It was a low-key place, no canopy or velvet rope or anything. If you didn't know it was a club, it might not catch your eye. It fit. Paul and his pals wouldn't be playing in a fancy Hollywood club, more like the down and dirty Hollywood bar scene.

"You look great, though, and that's what matters, right?" Alice said.

"Phft. I don't look a good as you." Even if I looked like sex in black vinyl, I was nothing compared to Alice. She was clad in a concoction that could make a steam punk cry, all black leather, buckles, and white lace.

I wasn't too surprised when Alice and I were carded at the door. It was pretty usual for me. The doorman eyeballed my driver's license for a long time before finally he stamped our hands so we could drink and reenter at will, and let us loose.

"Fuck," I muttered. "We're early." The first band of the night was just starting their set and there were a few people milling and listening, but it was clear the party hadn't gotten rolling yet. Alice shrugged.

I got our drinks while Alice found a free table where we could watch the stage and still be close to the bar.

"Did you and Jasper fuck and make up?" I asked over the music when I returned with our drinks.

"Nice, Bella. Not quite," she said, and launched into the story of what had happened. It was a lot of 'she said, he said,' and though I tried to follow, I really only kept up until I realized that they were more or less back together and tuned the rest out.

I love Alice, but I didn't need to know the details of her reconciliation. The fact that they were back together was enough info for me. I kept up the façade with occasional nods and sympathetic looks, but my thoughts were really on how soon Edward might be arriving. The band's set was over and they began clearing off while Alice went to get us more drinks.

I was so intent on watching Alice chatting up the bartender that I didn't notice someone sit beside me until he simultaneously spoke and grabbed my boob. I jumped and slapped in surprise.

"Sweet outfit, Bella," Mike panted in my ear. Obviously I hadn't hit him hard enough. I shoved his hand off of me and tossed my hair over my shoulder.

"No touchy, Mike, or I'll stick my heel where the sun don't shine," I spat. Alice was gathering up our drinks and heading back through the growing crowd.

"Ooo, in a bitchy mood tonight aren't we?" he said, pressing his chest against my shoulder. This time I could smell the booze on him. He reeked.

"You should know. You've called me a bitch more than once, yet you keep coming back for more," I reminded him, shoving my shoulder into his solar plexus.

"You may be a complete bitch but you're a wildcat in bed," he leered.

"And you're too drunk to give me more than teeny beer dick, Mike, so get lost," I snarled, just as Alice sat and pushed my rum and coke at me. She looked worriedly between me and Mike, but I shrugged it off. Mike grumbled something and wandered towards the bar. Alice sighed in relief and rolled her eyes.

"If you didn't have Mr. Big and Pretty hanging around I would have worried you'd be going for another ride on the Mike coaster."

"I'd have to be a whole lot more than desperate to go there again ," I retorted, and took a slug of my drink. "I'm easy, not crazy."

"Nothing wrong with you that a little shock therapy couldn't fix," Seth laughed, turning up just at the tail end of my statement. He gave Alice and me each a kiss on the cheek and sat beside me. "So what's new and crazy in your life, Bella?"

I didn't really want to get teased about my love life by Seth. I was saved from having to answer by the sight of Kate coming through the door.

"Hey, look, it's Kate," I said, grabbing at any distraction to wave her over. "Are they giving an art school discount tonight?"

"No, I think it's just that Paul carpet-bombed the school with flyers. He gave me the guilt trip. 'Dude, I didn't get into the student show, but come see us play and support your fellow starving artists!'" Seth complained.

Alice snickered. "Anything to get a crowd, right? What a drama king," I said.

"So where's your girlfriend?" Alice teased Seth. "I'm beginning to think you're just kidding us. There really is no girlfriend, is there?"

"Like I want to bring her around all of you art freaks," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Rachel is skiing at Big Bear with her family this weekend. She'll be coming to the student show on Friday, so you'll meet her then."

"You're keeping her away from us? It sounds like you're embarrassed or something," I said.

"Not embarrassed, but just ... Rachel's a normal girl, I didn't want to scare her off." At Seth's words, Alice and I exchanged looks of feigned surprise and innocence. "Oh, don't give me that you two. The last girl I brought around wouldn't talk to me after you asked if she'd ever had her pussy cast in plaster and offered to do it for her."

Alice snickered but I kept a straight face.

"Every girl should memorialize her pussy, Seth," I said solemnly.

"Oh, yeah? Where is your pussy shrine?" he shot back.

Alice chimed in, "I think Mike Newton's keeping a memorial for Bella. He was even trying to add to the shrine this evening."

"Really?" Seth asked and I rolled my eyes and nodded. "Well, with you wearing that get-up, I can't really be surprised. What did you do, mug a hooker on Sunset?"

"Bella's got to impress her new boy toy tonight," Alice responded before I could speak. I gaped and glared at her.

"What? You have a new boyfriend? Wait --" Again, before I could respond, Seth interrupted himself. "Is it your model?"

"He's not my boyfriend. Edward's just a friend and I'm not trying to impress him. I don't even know for sure if he'll be here tonight," I said, giving Alice a cold look which she returned with complete innocence.

"If who will be here tonight?" Kate asked as she drifted up to our table to stand beside me. Her friends crowded behind her, looking a little out of place.

"Bella has a crush on her model, Edward," Seth said dismissively before turning to Kate's brunette friend. "Hey, aren't you in my nineteenth century art history class?"

I fumed. "I don't have a crush on Edward," I said to Kate, "He's just a friend."

"A really hot friend," Alice said.

Kate nodded vaguely, glancing around. "Is that the guy I met you with last week? The one who I talked with about Kristeva? He seemed nice."

"Yeah, he's nice," I said casually. Alice rolled her eyes, but Kate didn't seem to notice.

I found myself wishing I had worn my usual jeans and sneakers instead of the vinyl and netting concoction that shoved my boobs up and out. Kate was dressed as girly as ever, looking like she'd just come from the hairdresser. Although I knew I looked sexy, I felt cheap in comparison, a cheeseburger next to filet mignon. I liked Kate, but the difference in our appearance made me self-conscious.

It was at that moment, with Alice on one side, Seth on my other, and Kate standing close enough to make an easy comparison, that Edward showed up. Jasper and Garrett were close behind him, discussing something seriously, but as soon as Jasper saw Alice he waved Garrett away and went to stand beside her stool and wrap an arm around her. She smiled up into his face. They touched noses. It was revoltingly cute.

I turned to Edward, and reached out towards him, but he shoved his hands in his pockets. He gave my outfit a look of alarmed distaste. Feeling slutty and obvious, I drew away and clenched both hands around my drink.

"Hello, Bella," he said to me, but I was feeling too hurt by the rebuff to turn to him. I acknowledged his greeting with a nod.

Edward said hello to Kate. She returned the greeting with, I thought, a total sex voice. Inwardly I rolled my eyes.

Garrett greeted our little group with a general wave and shy smile and then headed off to the stage where Paul and the rest of the band were setting up following the previous band's set. Jasper followed, bringing Alice with him, and Kate and her friends trailed after. I was left with Seth and Edward at our little table. Edward leaned close to me.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. I leaned back.

"Yeah, everything is fine, Edward," I snapped.

"I thought this was what you wanted," he said.

"Yeah, I got it. Just friends."

I took a big gulp of my drink and watched the stage. Edward eyed me for a long moment, his gaze flicking to Seth before he leaned away from me and followed my gaze to the stage.

Seth's gaze scanned the crowd and then suddenly he nearly choked on his drink. I patted him on the back.

"Holy crap, it's Jessica," he gasped. I followed his gaze and saw the twit coming into the club. Both were dressed for a club night, but something wasn't quite right about Jessica. I realized I was scanning her for the baby bump, but her body was the same. The difference was in her face but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"And ... she's coming this way," I stated. Jessica had spotted us. She was weaving through the sparse crowd towards us.

"Hey!" Jessica said cheerily as she reached our table and sat at Alice's abandoned stool. Seth nodded, Alice looked at her nails, and I just glared at her.

"How cool is it to see you guys again! It feels like forever since I was in painting class," Jessica gushed, grinning madly.

Seth and I gave each other flabbergasted looks before turning back to Jessica. Was she drugged? Unless she had an evil twin that we didn't know about, this was still the same girl who had slashed my tire for spite, and yet she was acting like we were long-lost friends.

It was a strange moment and I looked around surreptitiously to see if there were any hidden cameras. Nope, just the usual crowd, no cameras or phones pointed our way. If I hadn't thought Jessica might follow me, I would have made a break for the toilet. Well, that and the rum and cokes were making me a little light-headed.

Jessica was still babbling on.

"I miss school so much: the studio, the teachers, all my friends. I don't know how I'm going to ... hey, weren't you our model?" she asked, her eyes finally resting on Edward long enough to recognize him.

Edward's voice was tight and cool. "Yes."

"You were such a good model. Are you and Bella dating now? She's really a good painter."

"Thank you. No, we're not dating," Edward said to Jessica. Seth and I might as well have been carved from stone.

"Bella, it is so good to see you! I've missed talking to you. I've wanted to come by school and chat, find out how things are going for you. Lauren told me you got into the student show. I know it's something you've been wanting since forever. You're probably wondering what happened to me and why I dropped out so suddenly."

"I heard you got pregnant," I said.

"Yeah, well. It's been rough. I didn't realize how hard it would be and the baby hasn't even arrived yet!" Jessica laughed weakly. Seth fidgeted beside me. Probably wondering when I was going to let loose and tell Jessica what a dumb-ass slut she was.

"I guess being pregnant makes it hard to remember who your real friends are," I said calmly. Jessica faltered but then the smile relit. Lauren showed up at her elbow, glaring at me as if I had been boiling kittens.

"Jessica!" Lauren said, "I don't like this spot. I found a better place." Lauren unceremoniously dragged Jessica away.

"Is Jess drugged or is being knocked-up messing with her head?" I said loudly to Seth as they walked off.

Seth laughed. "Could be. Since when were you someone she missed? She always acted like you were the anti-Christ."

"I don't know, but if it's the meds, the happy needs to be dialed down. I wonder if she had enough sense to get impregnated by someone who at least has a chance of paying the child support. What a stupid whore."

"I feel sorry for her," Seth mused. "No degree, no talent, and now a baby ... she's screwed." He stood up, dismissing the Jessica discussion. "Get you another drink? I'll be right back."

I turned on my barstool towards Edward, still as a statue beside me. All our friends were gone now. I reached out to touch him. He just looked at my fingers stroking his forearm. He quirked an eyebrow at me and I read the unspoken question. I sighed and withdrew my hand.

"I thought you didn't want a boyfriend," Edward said.

"Can't I touch my friend? I touch Seth all the time, and he's my friend," I said, hating how I sounded like I was pleading.

"Like I'm just a friend?" Edward turned to look after Seth as he shouldered his way up to the bar.

I bit my lip. "No, Edward. Not like you." I shook my head. "Got it. No PDA. Or only at Disneyland. Whatever."

He turned and glared at the corner that Jessica and Lauren were haunting, his face cold. "You could be nicer to her," he said calmly.

"Who, Jessica? 'Curly Girl?' Why?" I snorted.

"You could find yourself in a similar situation someday," he commented, looking back to me. I felt my anger rising hotly.

"Do not compare me to that ... moron. I'm nothing like her. I would never find myself in her position."

"Oh? What are you doing to prevent being thrown out of school with no resources, maybe even pregnant? What makes you think you're better than she is?"

"I have my priorities. I'm more careful than that tramp, for one. I've got a plan, and having a baby or getting mixed up with some random loser isn't part of it," I spat.

"That's not very nice, Bella," Edward said.

"I've never pretended to be nice," I said.

"No, I suppose not," Edward responded slowly, and stood up. I watched him walk up to the stage, my mouth agape. He went to Garrett and talked to him a moment, then took a guitar and began fiddling with the knobs, adjusting something. Seth returned and I drank what he gave me, barely tasting the syrupy sweetness.

Alice rejoined us, too. The three of us sat as the lights changed and Paul walked up to the mic.

"I've got a special request tonight, and I can't say no to a man in love. So before we start our set, my buddy Jasper would like to sing a song. This is for Alice," Paul announced.

My jaw dropped as Edward put the strap of the guitar over his head and stood ready on stage. Jasper took the mic, and Edward stepped up behind him with the guitar. With the spotlight on the duo, Edward touched the strings and the opening chords reverberated through the club. Before Jasper began singing, I knew what was coming. The riff was too familiar to mistake.

_You say_

_you want_

_diamonds and a ring of gold ..._

Alice's hands went up to her cheeks. I don't know what she expected, but I knew she loved this song. Some weird U2 fixation of hers. Jasper didn't have a voice quite as good as Bono's, but he had the heart. Edward played the song well enough, head down and eyes closed. He must have practiced this song before.

It was a perfect choice, and I felt my eyes tingling with tears. Jasper was making a complete idiot of himself to tell Alice how he felt.

_.. when all_

_I want_

_is you ..._

I knew that this was Jasper's song to Alice, and that Edward was just playing it as a favor, but somehow I got all choked up, wondering, wishing maybe, that Edward was playing to me as well. If only. He never opened his eyes through the whole song.

_...all I want is you, _

_all I want is you..._

Alice's eyes were sparkling with tears, and by the time the song ended, and Paul's band had taken back the stage, she was out of her seat and grabbing Jasper as he stepped down. Edward handed Garrett back his guitar and made a quick comment to him before walking back towards our table.

My heart clenched in my chest, making it hard to breathe. What the hell was wrong with me? Before Edward could reach the table, I fled. I went outside and lit a cigarette with shaky hands.

I felt like an idiot. I wanted so badly for that song to be for me, but I knew it wasn't likely. His rebuke stung me, and I didn't know why I should care so much. If anyone else had said it I would have told them to fuck off and never given it a second thought, but from Edward, it was like a needle in my heart.

It was as if his opinion of me was more important than anyone else's, and truly I wanted so badly for him to think well of me. I wanted him to --

My mind skittered away from the "L word" and then came back. Was that the matter? I was trying to assure myself I wasn't falling in love with Edward, while trying so hard to hide any signs of affection from everyone around us. When did I go from wanting him to loving him?

I couldn't be in love with Edward, I thought. I barely knew him! It must just be all the rum and cokes that were making me maudlin. Yet another part of me kept thinking about last night, the way he touched me, the way he made me feel ... I leaned my head against the brick wall and looked up at the dark night.

_My friend. Edward is my friend_, I repeated in my head like a mantra.

It was a long time, and a second cigarette, before I felt composed enough to go back inside the club. The walls were thrumming with the heavy sound of Paul's band. Before I returned to the table, I got myself another rum and coke and wobbled over to my friends. Alice, seated in a smug Jasper's lap, was chatting animatedly with Seth and Kate's two art history friends.

Kate and Edward were talking, their heads leaning close together. I imagined Tanya must look like Kate: blonde, beautiful, perfect manicure and hair. I felt nameless rage build in me. I drained my drink and wheeled back to the bar for another. When I finally rejoined the group, Kate and Edward were just watching Paul's band play. I sat down heavily beside Edward. Kate smiled over at me, but I met her friendly look with an openly hostile glare. Her smile faltered and she looked away quickly. Edward gave me a curious glance.

Sucking down my rum and coke quickly, I staggered to my feet and asked if anyone needed another drink. Edward put his hand out towards me.

"Are you sure you want another?" he asked with concern. It was a friend's concern, nothing more, and it made me angrier still.

"Yeah, I'm pretty fucking sure, _Dad_," I sneered and peeled away from the group. Despite the fuzzy vision, I blamed my wobbliness on the heels.

The set had ended and Paul's band was taking a break before their second set. I teetered as I wove back to the table, reaching it at the same moment as Paul and Garrett. I bumped into Paul, nearly dropping my drink, but Paul steadied me.

"Nice look, Bella," he said, and let his hand linger at my waist, "Very hot."

"Thanks," I said. Edward was glaring at Paul, Paul was smiling at me, Kate was looking at Garrett, and Seth and Alice were looking at Jasper as he made a joke. It was a weird tableau, and I remembered it clearly, that instant before Paul bent his head and stuck his tongue down my throat. I was so shocked and smashed that I didn't react or resist in any way. Paul pulled back and smiled smugly.

"Sweet," he said. His hand gripped me harder, clutching me to his hip.

I was dimly aware that everyone at our table was looking at me and Paul now, with varying degrees of shock and confusion, but when Paul pulled away all I saw was Jessica, standing near the wall. Her face was as white as the moon, her eyes huge and hurt as she looked right at me.

Edward's words from earlier played through my head: _you could find yourself in a similar situation someday_. I felt sick. I made fun of her, but I was no better than Jessica, another stupid slut.

I put my drink on the table and muttered, "I don't feel so good, I think it's time to go home."

I pushed Paul's arm off of me and headed away. I heard Paul call after me, "Warm up that bed for me, sweetness."

I nearly ran. Mike was arguing with the door heavy and as I went by he tried to grope me again. I slapped his hand and kept going out into the cool night.

As I plodded up the hill towards my truck, I heard heavy footsteps behind me. I stopped and wheeled awkwardly, my keys in my hand ready to use as a weapon, but it was only Edward.

"I think I should drive you home," he said. His tone was flat, but his expression was livid.

"I can get myself home, fuck you very much. You don't have to babysit me," I scoffed. I didn't want his fucking pity. I expected him to walk away then, but he didn't.

"I'm just worried about you. You're drunk."

"Not too drunk to fucking drive, just too drunk to walk in these fucking heels. Now go back in there and charm the panties off Kate," I commanded.

"Kate? What are you talking about?" Edward asked, clearly confused.

"I saw you with Kate. You cry to me about how you love your girlfriend Tanya, and then you fuck me and run off to the next girl you meet. Glad I could help you get over Tanya so you could move on, or is that just the line you use on women? 'Poor me, I'm so heartbroken, come fuck me out of my misery.' I was just the latest dupe, right? Fuck me then make me feel bad about it?" I yelled. The apartments behind us were amazingly quiet, considering my volume.

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about?" Edward asked stormily, his anger leaking out. I was shocked. Other than in bed last night, I had never heard him use profanity. But my astonishment only lasted a moment before my irritation flared again.

"I'm talking about how you've been telling me how fucking _in love_ you are with this Tanya chick, but that doesn't stop you from cutting a wide swath through L.A, starting with me! Fuck me last night, but tonight it's all lectures to make me feel like a slutty piece of shit and fucking 'hands off the goods, baby.' Don't want me wrecking your chances with the other chicks, is that it? I should have known you were a slut. " I tried to turn but I stumbled and Edward caught and held me as I tried to find my balance.

"I'm not sleeping around, Bella. You're the only woman I've been with since December," he said calmly, but with a cold tone.

"Yeah, right, that doesn't mean you weren't trying to score with Kate," I snarled at him.

Edward sighed. "Garrett told me he liked Kate. I was trying to find out what she thought about him. I was just playing matchmaker."

I dropped my head, embarrassed. I'd been giving Kate the stink-eye when Edward was trying to set her up with someone else.

"Oh." I felt foolish for my blow-up now.

"Bella," Edward said quietly, and I realized he was holding me closer than he needed to for friendly support. I stared intently at his chest. "I'm sorry. I thought we agreed to keep things friendly outside of the bedroom. I didn't mean to make you feel bad."

"Thanks. I guess." I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for going all Psycho Bitch on you."

"Why don't you come back in for the rest of the show?" he asked, offering the olive branch.

"No, I don't think so. I don't feel up to it tonight," I muttered. I felt confused and emotionally drained, not to mention more than a little buzzed. Maybe drunk. Maybe. I certainly didn't feel up to being back around all my friends, being anywhere near Paul and his invading tongue.

"Got a hot date with the singer?" he said, and though he tried to be light, there was a resentful edge to his question.

"No. Paul just wishes," I said with a grimace. "I could never fuck him. His ears are a funny shape."

"You're kidding me, right?" Edward asked in disbelief and I fidgeted. Alice and my mom were the only people who knew about my ear fixation. Now Edward knew, too.

"No. Some girls are size queens, I have an ear thing." I shrugged. "What?" Edward shook his head and smiled.

"Alright, no more music, no hot date with a weird-eared singer. At least let me take you home, okay? I don't think you should drive ... in those heels."

I chuckled and within a moment we were both laughing. Maybe I was too drunk after all. I _had_ just admitted my secret ear fixation. I handed over the keys.

As the engine turned over Edward said, "You realize I have no idea where we are, right?"

"Right. Just go down this hill and work your way west to Fairfax and follow that all the way down to Venice," I said. I watched with a smile as he gently maneuvered my truck onto the steep street.

XXX

**Glossary:**

**Gordian Knot** --metaphorically, an impossible problem to untangle. The Gordian knot was a knotted rope. Alexander "solved" the puzzle by using a sword to cut through the knot.

**Goy **-- Yiddish word for a non-Jewish person

**shayna ** -- Yiddish word for pretty.

**Plein Air** -- painting outdoors or on location. Popularized by Impressionists in the 19th century, it generally refers to any painter leaving the studio setting and painting out doors.

**A/N: Thank you to Irritable Grizzzly and MrsDazzled, my betas. Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, saving, fav'ing, etc. **

**The outtake EPOV chapter is up, Art School Undercover. It covers events from Chapters 2 to 4 of ASC, check it out. It will give you a little insight into Edward's mind.**

**I love hearing what readers think, please review.**


	16. 16 Heim

**A/N: There has been some confusion about condom use in this story. No, Edward and Bella didn't forget to use a condom in the last chapter, I just tired of describing it every time. They used one. They always use one.**

**SM owns Twilight. This story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

**XXX**

**ASC 16 Heim. (Paris Salon) **

I woke with a pounding in my head that was weirdly matched by a shrilling from somewhere in my bedroom. It sounded like a phone, but not my phone.

I peeked over to the other side of the bed to see the murky shape of Edward rolling over and rummaging on the floor before stopping the ringing.

"Hey," he said, sitting on the edge of my bed and rubbing his scalp. I could faintly hear a woman's voice coming through the phone.

"Hello." I slid closer to him and wrapped myself around his naked waist. His hand absently stroked my hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot... Yes, I'll be there. I don't know, maybe three hours... Fine. Eleven. I love you, too." He ended the call.

I snuggled my cheek into the warm skin of his hip. I'd take the hellish hangover if I had Edward in bed when I woke up.

But then he stood up and began getting dressed.

"Edward? What's the matter?" I asked, still not awake enough to process what was going on.

"I have to go. Are you feeling sober enough to drive me over to Emmett's?" he asked quietly.

"Uh, sure. Let me ..." I sat up and moaned at the sensation of the rotation of the earth.

"I can ask Jasper," he said, stroking my back.

"No, no. I'll take you. I just need some Advil. And water."

I dressed in a fog, chugged some pills and water, and in ten minutes we were headed to Emmett's house. Edward just sat tensely in the passenger seat.

He obviously wasn't going to volunteer the information and the mystery was killing me. "Who called?" I asked.

"My mother. I forgot that I had promised to be there today for a family lunch," he smiled wryly. "I'll be back this evening. You won't even know I was gone."

"It's cool. I've got some things to do at the studio anyway." Even though I didn't need him, and I had plenty of things to do, I still felt disappointed that he wouldn't be with me.

I didn't even bother to park at Emmett's place, but just pulled up in front and stopped. I expected Edward to leap out, but he didn't move. I looked at him and found him staring at me, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Bella," he said gently, as he touched my cheek with his fingertips, "I'll come by your place when I get back."

Edward climbed out and looked back at me. I just nodded and drove away.

XXX

I went to the studio after dropping him off, but even after a coffee and muffin I still felt like crap. I tried to turn my attention to something I had been working on from the previous week, painting some of the background, but I fucked it up so badly I had to give up. I set it aside, facing the wall. I'd paint over the messed up area later. When I didn't feel so rotten.

I was lying across my armchair, my hand covering my eyes, when Seth found me around noon.

"Hell, Bella, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be sleeping off the booze until Monday."

"I have work to do," I grumbled.

"Oh, sorry, my mistake, I thought you were lounging. You'll have to teach me this new technique. "

"Fuck off, Seth," I said, swiveling to bring myself upright and rubbing my temples. Seth plopped down on the floor and opened a coke. The hiss of carbonation felt like a saw-blade in my brain. I wanted to cry.

"Oh, no, you won't get away that easily. I want to know what is going on with Mr. Big and Pretty. Has he got a crush on you or something?"

"What fucking gibberish are you talking now?" I asked.

"Well, last night, after Paul so thoughtfully said hello to your tonsils, Edward shoved him against the table and told him to watch himself. When he took off, I figured he caught up to you."

"Edward did what?"

"Are you sure you're not brain-damaged from all the drinking? Edward. Shoved. Paul," Seth illustrated his words with overly dramatic gestures. He grinned at me. "I think he likes you."

"Who, Paul?" I said, feeling muddled and stupid.

"No, genius, Edward! I think that's why he's modeling for you. So what happened after you left the club anyway? Did Edward catch you?"

"Yeah. He drove me home," I said.

"And ...?" Seth prompted.

My brow furrowed in thought as I tried to recall the events after Edward got to Sunset Boulevard, but up until waking up in my bed with his phone ringing, it was fuzzy. Something about the bathroom, and Edward standing in my front doorway.

"Um, he spent the night at my place." That much I was pretty clear about.

"Oh? In your bed?"

"You know, this isn't really any of your fucking business, Seth." I wished I had something to throw at him, but that would require getting up and I wasn't ready for that yet.

"You're right, but I'm going to keep asking anyway."

"And I won't answer. Go away and leave me to my fucking hangover in peace."

Seth chuckled but just drank his soda and looked around at the paintings. He spotted the one from yesterday, leaning against the wall in front of the rest. The one with Edward completely nude with his hand on his cock, his eyes gazing directly at the viewer with plain lust. I cursed inwardly that I hadn't stuck it in the back, somewhere out of sight.

"Whoa. Bella. That's ..." he paused and I rolled my head back on the chair. "You're screwing him, right? Because if you aren't ..." he waved at the painting, "you really should be. That is sex on a canvas."

"Board," I murmured, eyeing the painting.

"Whatever. Just don't show it to Berty. He'll have it in his private jack-off corner faster than you can say 'orgasm'."

"Yuck, Seth. Thanks for the fucking visual of Berty spanking the pony. I think I'll go poke out my eyes with a pencil now."

"It won't help. It's already burned into your brain."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"So, I guess I got the answer to my question after all," Seth said, climbing to his feet. "You're doing the hot model, he's obviously sweet on you, and you're still a barrel of laughs when you're hung over. Need me to bring you a ginger ale or something?"

"A ginger ale would be nice," I said, trying to smile.

"Coming up, Bells, be back in a few."

He headed off and left me to ransack my memories from the night before. I had complimented Edward on his guitar playing and he had briefly thanked me, refusing to elaborate on his performance. Although he talked lightly about the show, he looked tense and distant.

My recollections became increasingly disjointed from about the time we passed under the Santa Monica Freeway.

We reached the house and I tried to walk but kept falling over my own feet. Edward finally snorted in disgust and carried me to the door where he used my keys to open it. I was giggling and hiccupping and when he set me on my feet I had to hold onto the furniture to stay upright.

Something about a cab, Edward standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets.

Me in my bathroom, puking my guts up, while Edward held my hair. Edward helping me out of my boots and giving me a glass of water and washing my face.

Sitting on the edge of my bed while Edward helped me out of the skintight black vinyl and puff of black netting.

Edward naked. Him touching me, me touching him. There were words spoken, but nothing that seemed important through my drunken haze. I didn't want to kiss him on the mouth, I remembered that, because I was fearful that my mouth was all nasty, but he grabbed my face and kissed me anyway. I don't know what I tasted like, but his mouth tasted of beer and mint. I wouldn't let go of him, even in my inebriation I was hungry and horny.

Helping him roll on the condom, feeling the heavy weight of him in the palm of my hand. The sounds coming from him as he thrust into me, the sounds I made. The feeling of him tensing over me, inside me. My body relaxing with his.

I thought I fell asleep almost immediately after the sex but it was pretty fuzzy.

Seth returned to find me staring at the ceiling.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Ugh, yes, just feeling the hangover."

"What was up with Jessica?" he asked, popping open my soda and handing it to me. I sat up tentatively, unsure about my throbbing head and my churning stomach. "I don't think she's been that friendly to you since freshman year."

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. I'd been wondering that myself. Maybe she wanted something from me. I couldn't imagine what...

"I wonder who the baby daddy might be," Seth mused rhetorically.

"Paul," I answered automatically.

Seth stared at me. "Paul? You've got to be kidding me. Paul?"

"That's right. Paul."

"How do you know that? I mean, are you sure?" Seth was incredulous.

"I saw the look on Jessica's face when Paul kissed me. I'd lay money he's the baby daddy and you know I'm not the gambling type."

"Really? Wow." Seth considered silently before continuing. "So why would he be sucking your face off if he's going to be a daddy?"

"I really don't know." I put my hand over my face and moaned. All the talking was making my head hurt. All the ginger ale in L.A. wasn't going to make this go away.

"You know, you smell like a wino. I can smell the booze on you from here," Seth remarked.

"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better."

"You're not going to get anything decent done in this state. You should just go home, take a bath, and sleep it off. Come back tomorrow and get back to work."

"That's an excellent idea."

XXX

I went home and took a long hot bath, letting the rum smell wash out of my pores and down the drain. Alice fussed over me and made me eat cheese toast, though I told her I thought that was a home remedy for something other than hangovers. Like stuffy noses or impetigo, something little kids would get. It did make me feel better though.

When Jasper arrived late in the afternoon he gave me a quiet greeting and a wave, before disappearing into the bedroom with Alice. If this was his way of staying out of my business, that was fine. I went back to reading and doodling.

By the time Edward showed up on the doorstep, long past dark, wearing a button-down shirt and tie with his jeans and motorcycle boots, I felt nearly human again. Edward joined me on the sofa for the History Channel and popcorn. I lounged against him as we pretended to focus on the Nazi plans for Russia. Maybe I was the one pretending and he really was focused, but all I could think about was the warm smell of Edward, the slow easy breaths he took, the touch of his fingers, indolently stroking my hair.

At a commercial I turned in his arms and asked what had been bothering me all day.

"What's up with you shoving Paul at the club last night? Defending my honor?"

He looked a little sheepish and looked away. "No man should kiss a woman who doesn't want it, and you pretty clearly didn't want it."

"So you were just being chivalrous? You'd do the same if he kissed, say, Alice?"

"Yes," Edward said firmly, but he still wouldn't meet my eyes.

"That's too bad. It was much hotter when I thought you were getting jealous."

"Why would I get jealous? He has funny-shaped ears," Edward cracked, finally looking at me with a laugh.

I pulled him into me by that gray silk tie. He kissed me like it had been forever since we'd been together, instead of fewer than twelve hours. His hands were all over me, pulling my clothes off and squeezing my flesh as he went. My shirt and bra were quickly on the floor and one of his hands was down my sweatpants in no time.

Alice came out of her room, running into the kitchen. Edward and I jumped guiltily then looked at each other. I'd already forgotten how little privacy I had with a roommate.

"My room it is," I said. While Alice rustled about in the kitchen I picked up my shirt and walked to my bedroom, followed quietly by Edward. He closed the door behind him and just looked at me. We began laughing quietly until we were both gasping.

Then he stopped laughing and in two long strides crossed to me and tumbled me onto the bed. In moments we were naked and all silliness was gone. I ran my hands down his long lean torso and he shuddered. I delighted in his response.

We took our time this evening, the relaxed and unhurried touches of two people who were comfortable with each other. Safe in his arms, I let myself go. Edward met my trust with his own. I could never hurt him in any way.

XXX

The rest of the week was a dreamy time. Edward was with me almost constantly. By Wednesday the few signs that he had been living at Emmett's apartment had moved to my place. I was amazed by how little he had. It all fit on _La Poderosa_. A bedroll, a few changes of clothing, his knapsack with his laptop computer and phone, a book he was reading, and a cloth roll of tools. He told me that he would buy books, sometimes new, more often used, and when he was done he would leave them wherever he was. He couldn't take books all over the place on his bike. When I was surprised that he would abandon them so casually he tapped his temple and said "All the important stuff is in here, Bella. It's not the physical things that count. That's just baggage. It weighs a person down. I don't need it."

I painted him. Sometimes nude, but more often in jeans and boots, shirtless. I tucked the Saturday painting in my truck and took it home. I stashed it in my room where no one would see it. I couldn't quite explain why I didn't want to share that painting with anyone. It was somehow precious.

Days were spent either in my classes or in the studio, and nights were spent in my bed. I discovered how he liked me to touch him, just so, running my fingers under his scrotum. I discovered how sensitive the backs of his knees were. He seemed to delight in discovering my ticklish spots, and finding the angle that would make me scream when he fucked me. He learned how I liked my coffee, and I learned how to wake him with kisses on his neck until he reached out and pulled me into an embrace.

Everyone else was there but it was all on the periphery. Seth didn't say anything about my new companion, nor did Jasper and Alice. Around others we didn't touch and barely looked at each other, but I'm sure it was obvious that something had changed. It must have been obvious but it wasn't commented upon. At least not to my face. I didn't care, anyway. I was focused on my paintings and Edward. My world shrank down to those two forces. Nothing else mattered. All felt right.

XXX

Friday morning Edward took me up to Zuma on _La Poderosa_. I leaned into his back as we flew down the freeway, the smell of his leather jacket whipped away by the wind almost before it could touch me. I barely paid attention to where we were until he pulled into a quiet parking lot next to Pacific Coast Highway. We walked through the tunnel and came out onto the sandy beach. We wallowed through the sand to a large rock where we could sit above the surf. Side by side we sat, my arm pressing into his. For a long time we just watched the waves.

I moved away and rearranged myself with my back to the waves. Reaching into my knapsack, I pulled out my sketch book and began sketching Edward. He was so used to my sketching he didn't move, but his eyes flickered to me and I could see an amused smile curl his mouth.

"We come out here, surrounded by all this natural beauty, and you want to draw me?"

"Ocean scenes are passé. It's been done," I said dismissively. I quickly drew the angle of his jaw and the laughing squint to his eyes.

"There's more than just ocean. The rocks, the tide pools, the hills ..." Edward suggested.

"_They_ will all be here next week," I pointed out, continuing to draw. "_You_ will not."

Edward's eyes, already trained on the expanse of horizon that ended halfway around the world, became focused on something impossibly more distant.

"True," he said, and I saw a gleam of happiness he didn't usually display.

"Are you ready?" I asked. He didn't even ask for what. He knew what I meant.

"Yes, I'm ready. All I need is a full tank and clear weather, and I'm off."

I paused to study his expression. It seemed excited, as if Edward yearned to stretch his wings and fly. He was so beautiful in that moment, it made my heart sing. I couldn't tear my eyes away.

"Where will you go?" I asked, my voice barely louder than the surf.

"I don't know. I'll just point _La Poderosa_ and ride. Maybe south to Baja, or perhaps New Mexico. It doesn't really matter."

"How can you just go like that, without knowing where you're headed?"

"It's what I like. No plan, just see where the road takes me."

I shook my head in disbelief. "I can't imagine just driving without a destination in mind." Edward's eyes refocused and I was part of his world again.

"You always know where you're going? What you want?" he asked, smiling.

"Of course."

"What if something happens to change your route? Then what?" I knew he wasn't just talking about travels, but about art.

"There's always room for change, for happy accidents. That can be the best sometimes, but if I don't have a destination in mind how will I know when I've gotten there?"

Edward threw his head back and laughed at me. I smiled, but I thought he was crazy.

We stayed at the beach for a couple of hours, exploring the rocks, walking in the surf and kicking sand at each other like little kids. I got some good sketches of him, and dragged him back to the studio so I could get more painting in before the student show opening.

Back in my studio I invited Edward to look over the paintings and decide if there was one he liked, that he wanted as his part of the bargain.

He looked over the paintings and eventually chose an early one, where he sat shirtless in my armchair, gazing directly out at the viewer. Directly at me. It was one of my favorites, and I was pleased and simultaneously dismayed that it was his choice, too. It meant I would lose it, but it also confirmed my own judgment.

"Why that one?" I asked as I moved it off to the side.

"It's more me, I suppose ..." he said doubtfully. I looked up at Edward. He was examining the painting as if it troubled him. "I just remember posing for that one and thinking you were so beautiful, and so difficult to understand. It's the moment I really felt comfortable modeling."

_Comfortable_. I'd never felt comfortable with Edward until this past week. There were other adjectives I could name -- enthralled, for example. It didn't escape my notice that he had called me beautiful, but I let both of those comments pass. Instead my head latched onto the least likely part.

"I don't think I'm difficult to understand," I said, looking at the painting instead of Edward, frightened of giving too much away. "Eat, sleep, paint, repeat."

Edward chuckled and I glanced up at him. "You oversimplify yourself, Bella."

"Oh, I forgot. Eat, sleep, paint, screw Edward, repeat." I laughed, but Edward didn't.

"That's not what I mean," he said with a bit of a scowl. "I wonder what goes on in your head that you take the mundane things you see and make them into something magical, something strange and beautiful."

"I don't think my subjects are mundane," I said with a meaningful look.

"I'd like to think I'm not mundane, but when I look at your paintings ... well, I think you see something different than what I see in the mirror."

I studied him for a long moment, and then looked back at the painting. "I paint you as I see you, Edward. It may not be the way a camera would see you, but I'm not a camera."

Edward nodded. "That's exactly what I mean." The circular discussion was bothering me, so I changed the subject.

"What will you do with the painting? You can't put it on _La Poderosa_, can you?"

"It's a little too big. Maybe I can get Emmett to bring it up to my parents' place next time he visits Santa Barbara. I could ask him to take it to his apartment tonight."

"Can we wait? I still need to shoot everything for the scholarship application."

"When are you going to take pictures?"

"I was planning on doing it this weekend. The application is due Wednesday."

Edward nodded, thinking. "I'm leaving Sunday. Can you just hold onto it for now?"

"Sure. I can take it to Emmett after I'm done with it."

And that was it. Our arrangement, our trade, was completed. Or so I thought.

The rest of the afternoon I painted. I used the beach sketches and Fifi, the stuffed bird. I made Fifi's wings grow from Edward's curved back as if he was an angel about to take flight. The real Edward was reading his book, a Hemingway. Once in awhile he would read an excerpt out loud to me and I would distractedly comment.

Jasper showed up as I was adding some lights into Fifi's wings. It was just like a week earlier, but this time he was bouncing with excitement.

He bounded over and kissed me on the cheek. I poked him with the back of my paintbrush and he tickled my waist.

"Hey, may I borrow Edward?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Sure."

Edward was watching Jasper with a raised eyebrow. I turned back to my painting. The two talked quietly for a moment, and then Edward stood up.

"We'll see you at the show tonight," Jasper said as Edward put his book on the chair and shrugged into his jacket.

"Oh? Uh, okay." I stuttered. The two men walked out and I was standing there blinking. What the hell would Edward and Jasper have to talk about tonight, right before the show? I felt an indefinable apprehension.

Frowning, I turned back to my painting. The brushstrokes became rougher as I fretted.

XXX

Alice met me at my studio space before the show. She looked at the paintings against the wall while I changed my ratty t-shirt for a dressy blouse and vest. I kept on my paint-spattered jeans and cons. I might look half-dressed, but I didn't care.

Again I was glad, as she perused the paintings, that I had taken the porno painting home. I really couldn't imagine sharing it with anyone. I'd never before had anything I considered so private, but now I felt I had a fetish object.

She pointed to Edward's painting, the one he had chosen. "That's the best one. I want it," she demanded. We'd traded before and she'd been promising me a custom velvet frock coat if I gave her another painting.

"Can't have it, bumble-bee. Edward's taking that one."

"He's got good taste," she said appreciatively.

"Yeah, I think so."

We headed down to the gallery, which was already filling with students. Some, like Alice, were dressed up, but most looked like they had just left class. Alice started talking with another design student, and I looked around, trying to see where my paintings had been hung. I didn't see them in the front part of the gallery, and started working my way through the room towards the desk and the second room. I spotted Jessica and Paul standing in a corner. Jessica was looking down at her shoes, Paul was looking up, seemingly studying the ceiling. It was an odd tableau, and I filed it away for later.

I stepped around a couple that looked very out of place, old enough to be grad students, but dressed fancier than the rest of the crowd. The man was wearing a suit with a black t-shirt and the woman was wearing a black sheath dress that looked way too expensive for the room. The woman looked bored. I only noticed them because of the fancy clothes. As I stepped around them, the woman said to the man, "Come on, Alec, you won't be finding anything decent here, I don't know why you bother."

"You never know, Jane. This could be the best place to find new talent..." They both had slightly British-sounding accents. Weird, they looked and talked like they were on the hunt for new actors. I kept going, disregarding the strange conversation.

Seth caught me at the desk, where plastic cups of cheap wine and little cheese and crackers were being served. I grabbed a cup as he pulled two people over to me.

"Bella! Perfect. Bella, this is Rachel. Rachel, this is my buddy, Bella." I shook hands with a pretty, black-haired girl. She had gorgeous skin. She shook my hand nervously.

"Hi, Bella. Seth has told me so much about you," she said shyly. I laughed at her tentative statement.

"Hopefully not all the scary bits. I'm not as bad as Seth makes me out to be."

"No, she's worse," stage-whispered Seth. Rachel's eyes widened, but she laughed too, and I decided then that I liked her. She had a friendly laugh.

"And this," she said, gesturing at the tall man behind her, "is my brother, Quil."

Quil was just as beautiful as his sister but in a very manly way. His shiny black hair tumbled over his eyes and he gave me a warm smile. His hand gripped mine gently, like he was afraid of crushing it.

"Nice to meet you," I said politely.

"And you, Bella," he said with a sly spark in his eyes. I turned back to Seth.

"Do you know where they hung our paintings?" I asked. "I haven't seen them yet."

"Yeah, they're in the back. McCarty has some weird sweater thing next to your paintings, you can't miss it."

The four of us trailed to the back, but I lost Seth when Rachel asked him about a mixed media construction that looked like a dollhouse crossed with Robbie the Robot. I continued towards the back and spotted the Thneed before I saw my paintings, hung side-by-side near the emergency exit. Well, at least they weren't in the bathroom.

I stopped to check out Emmett's Thneed. It had a framework inside that made the multi-armed sweater look more like an Indian deity, with cloth hands emerging from the sleeves. It was better in the gallery, I decided, than it had looked on the needles. I wondered if I could convince him to make me a sweater. Only with two sleeves.

I moved on to examine my own work. They were two paintings from early in my sessions with Edward, one where it appeared he was resting on raw meat, drippy and dark liver-red. The other one was a painting where he was shirtless, with the cookie fortune and scraps of paper collaged into the background. _You never find what you seek by looking, but you find what you need where you least expect it._

My paintings looked good, I decided. In the ideal lighting of the gallery they looked, well, perfect. I wondered if Jasper had hung them. I stayed long enough to check that the tags were correct, and that no one had put Lauren's name on them.

It seemed, seeing them like this, a little unbelievable that I had painted them. Never mind that I remembered with perfect clarity the day that Edward arrived in Berty's class, that I recalled every brush-stroke of the pair of paintings. It still seemed unreal that something so lovely had come from me. I had agonized, poured myself into them, and now here they were. I sighed with contentment.

With my wine in hand and a more generous feeling in my heart for the other work on display, I moved along to see the rest of the show. There were a few pieces that I had to wonder at, but most of the work was great, even if I had seen much of it before in studios or in progress in classrooms. There were paintings, sculptures, photos, and fiber pieces. There were lithographs and pots and a case of jewelry pieces. Something for everyone, every department represented.

I said hi to a few people, including a very drunk Garrett, and was getting a refill on my wine when I heard my name.

"Bella Swan? She's right there." I turned to find the yuppie out-of-place man standing a few feet away and Mike pointing to me. I had the mad urge to leave, pretend I wasn't who they were talking about. Then the gray-suited guy was in front of me and I was looking up into his colorless gray eyes that matched his suit. Maybe it was the wine but I almost giggled as he stalked across the gallery toward me.

"Are you Isabella Swan?" gray suit asked brusquely, that slightly British accent seeming more pronounced.

"Um, yeah. Bella. Bella Swan. I am."

_Great. Now I was sounding like Dr. Seuss._

"I rather like the paintings you have on display here. Do you have more of the same available?"

I blinked at the request. Was he interested in ... buying?

"If you want to buy a painting, um, the ones here are for sale," I stammered.

"Maybe, but I'd be more interested in seeing a complete body of work," he said, and he seemed to relax a little. "I'm sorry for not introducing myself. I'm Alec. I run the AV Gallery in Culver City. I'm interested in your paintings for a show. I'd like to see what else you have available."

I shook his dry hand and stared.

"Now?" I asked.

"Now would be best, yes," he said with a smile.

I led him upstairs to the nearly silent 300 studio and we wound our way to my space. I didn't know what to say to the man who trailed behind me and he didn't say anything to break the silence, so I just stalked to my space and waved at my paintings leaning against the wall.

Alec put his hand to his chin, curling his fingers under his lip as he looked at the paintings.

"These are all the same model as the downstairs paintings?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, and sipped nervously at my wine. Now that my brain seemed to have unlocked I was getting excited. I had heard of AV Gallery. It was new, in the coolest area of new galleries. Seth had talked about going to an opening a couple of months ago. He said the work was very fresh, showing emerging Los Angeles artists. I wanted to shout, _show me!_ _I'm emerging!_

Instead I leaned against Jessica's empty wall and feigned indifference as Alec moved slowly from painting to painting, occasionally stepping forward to move one to the front for a better view. Without turning, he started asking me questions.

"So how many do you have here?"

"Fourteen," I answered. "I also have the two in the student show, and my professor has another two that I'll be getting back this week." I didn't include Edward's painting, half-hidden by the armchair, nor the porno one from last weekend. Alec nodded.

"Medium?"

"Acrylic and found objects on board."

"Hm. Mixed media. Interesting. Do these have titles?"

"No, not yet."

"You should think of some titles. Collectors like titles."

"Oh." I couldn't think of anything intelligent to say to that, so I just took another gulp of wine and left the cup on the floor.

Alec turned and looked coolly at me.

"So, tell me about the paintings in twenty words or less." This is what art school was for, really. I'd already spent nearly three years not just painting, but talking about paintings: mine, classmates', famous artists', etc. I could bullshit with the best. Almost automatically I prepared to talk about the historical dialectic of artist and model, about form and gesture, about turning emotion into image. But when I opened my mouth I found myself speaking Edward's words from earlier in the day.

"It's about finding the precious side of the mundane, the spiritual beauty in the corporeal form." As I said it I knew it was right, it was real. Alec raised an eyebrow and his eyes swiveled back to the paintings before returning to me. I stood my ground. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or not.

"What kind of price range are we looking at here?" he asked abruptly.

Some of the professors would talk about pricing, but very few. Most of them, like old Berty, would just tell us to concentrate on the work. That pricing was outside of the realm of art school and something that belonged on the business side. I wouldn't be taking the "Business for Artists" class until next spring, though.

"I really don't know, what do you think?" I said.

He tapped his lips with a fingertip and gave me a faint smile. "I think we could be looking at twelve hundred for starters. You're new, so we can build up from there, but it's a good place to start. Not too cheap, but I think I can convince the collectors it's a worth it."

My eyes widened, but my tongue stuck on the price. Other than trades I had sold only one painting, to one of my mom's friends for a hundred dollars. I had thought it was great, but I knew I couldn't make a living selling paintings that cheap.

"That sounds fine," I said. My voice seemed to be coming from far away. I realized I was on autopilot.

"I like what I see," he continued. "Look, I'm not in the habit of offering shows to students, but I have a group show coming up in two weeks, and one of my artists has ... well he's fucked up and wound up in rehab and he doesn't have the work he promised so I need a third artist for the show. I think you will fit in with the other two, both figurative painters like yourself, and I think my collectors will eat this stuff up, but I need all the work you have on hand.

"Here's the deal: All work stays in the gallery for at least four weeks, no pulling anything out until the end of the show. I have exclusive rights to market and sell your work in L.A for at least one year, and the work is sold on commission at fifty percent. Does that work for you?"

My jaw dropped. It was amazing that I remained standing. This was a dream come true. This kind of Hollywood fantasy shit never really happens, but here it was. Well, I was near enough to Hollywood, right? I mean, one of the biggest movie companies was right down the street from my house. Still, it felt unreal.

"Fuck, yeah," I said, awed by the offer. Alec smirked at my profanity before continuing.

"I'd like to meet with you next week and discuss this further with you, will you be available Wednesday?"

"Yes," I said, thinking that I'd clear my schedule and ditch class if it meant getting a real show in a real gallery.

"Good," he said. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a business card. He handed it to me. I looked down at the glossy black and white card.

AV Gallery, Alec Volterra, Gallery Director and Owner.

There was an address in Culver City and a 310 phone number, as well as a web address.

"Give me a call Tuesday and we'll set something up," he said.

"You got it," I said, and tucked the card into my bra, where I wouldn't accidentally wash it or something similarly stupid. Alec raised an eyebrow and I just grinned.

"I'd best be getting back," he said. "It's very nice to meet you, Bella. I hope we can show your paintings."

"Yeah, me too. I mean, it's nice to meet you, too. I'd like to show my paintings with you." My words came out in a tangled rush and I felt awkward. I was a kid next to him, a hick from the boonies. What made me think I could do this? I stuck out my hand and he clasped it briefly before turning his back and striding out of the studio.

Overwhelmed, I slumped into my armchair and took a few deep breaths. Then I started to laugh and kicked my feet on the floor, giggling insanely. I wanted to scream and cry all at the same time. My mother would just die when I told her about this! I nearly called her right then, but I decided it could wait until it was firmed up. No sense in getting her all excited if Alec changed his mind.

"I can't believe it," I squealed.

"Can't believe what?" Edward drawled as he came around my wall into my space. I bounced up and hugged him tightly. He put his arms around my waist and just looked into my face as I jumped around.

"I'm going to have a show!" I said.

"That's great news, we should celebrate," he said, and I realized he was slurring.

"Are you drunk?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"Uh, yep," he replied. He seemed to have a problem focusing on me.

"Edward! I thought Jasper wanted to talk to you, not get you fucking smashed."

"He did. We did talk. We just drank and talked and talked and drank," he smirked lazily. "I think you need to come back downstairs."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Jasper said you have to."

"Maybe I would rather stay here with you," I commented, spreading my hands over his chest. Edward continued to grin at me and I felt a surprisingly hard lump against my jeans. Surprising, because as drunk as he was, I wouldn't have expected that part of him to be able to get hard.

"I'd love to oblige you, Bella my sweet, but Jasper may come looking for us. He was quite certain that you should come to the gallery."

Even with only two glasses of wine I felt giddy and intoxicated, and we galloped gracelessly back downstairs. The awards were being announced. I skidded to a stop just inside the door, nearly bumping my nose on the wall of shoulders in front of me.

The Clapp was standing at the desk and I arrived just in time to hear him announce Seth as one of the award winners. Edward clapped loudly behind me and I cheered as Seth stepped forward to take the envelope with a gift certificate for Pearl Paint. I saw him step back and give Rachel a kiss while her brother Quil slapped him on the shoulder.

When the applause had quieted a little, Clapp went on to the next award, for second place, a gift certificate for a framing shop in Culver City. Everyone held still as he read the name.

"Swan, Isabella," he said, his eyes sweeping the crowd. Edward was shoving me through and I stood stunned in the middle of the gallery. I tried to paste a smile on my face as I stepped forward and took the envelope from Clapp. He shook my limp hand, and I wheeled and ran back to the door, worming my way through the crowd until I reached Edward.

"Congratulations, Bella," he said, and kissed me on the forehead. It was the best reward of the evening.

XXX

Seth and I were in a mood to celebrate my good fortune, and fortunately our friends were too. The group of us ended up descending upon a bar down the street: Edward and me, Emmett with Rosalie, Alice and Jasper, Seth with his girlfriend Rachel and her brother Quil. It was about as perfect an evening as I could ask for. I had never felt so light and happy in my life.

I ended up smashed into a booth between Alice and Rachel as the boys played a game of pool. Edward and Jasper teamed up against Seth and Quil, while Emmett waved them off and sat beside Rosalie in the booth with us girls. It was part of the reason we were crammed together. Emmett took up as much room as two normal-sized people.

I had one arm around Alice, and the other hand was holding my bottle of beer. I tried not to openly stare at the way Edward's jeans tightened over his ass every time he bent over to make a shot. Unlike the other three guys who were laughing and joking, he seemed focused on the game, but I saw the smile lurking on his face. Jasper joked with Seth and Quil, while Edward was quiet and cleared the table and polished off several more drinks. Being shit-faced drunk didn't seem to affect his playing.

"He's the same guy in your paintings, right?" Rachel said to me, interrupting my ogling. I tried to turn without being nose-to-nose with her.

"Edward? Yes, he was my model for both of those paintings," I said.

"Seth said you two met in painting class. Is he another student?"

"No, he was our model."

"So how long have you two been dating?" she asked. I wondered why she was so interested. Did she think I was after Seth? That would be as creepy as kissing my brother. If I had a brother.

"We're not really dating. He models for me." In the student show paintings Edward had his jeans on, so I figured that was safe. I didn't realize Alice was listening while she watched Jasper play.

"Yeah, he models in your bed all the time," Alice giggled. I smacked her on the arm. I turned back to Rachel.

"Edward doesn't live in L.A., he's just visiting. He's leaving next week."

"What will you do for a model when he's gone?" she asked persistently.

I shrugged. "I'll have to find another. Are you volunteering?" I arched my eyebrows at her coyly, and she stiffened a little. I realized that Rachel thought I was flirting.

"Uh, no," she said nervously and I laughed. I bumped her shoulder with mine.

"I'm teasing, Rachel. I'm sure if you're going to do any modeling it will be for Seth." I took a deep breath. "So, how did you two meet?" I asked in an attempt to change the topic. She still seemed a bit startled, but accepted my diversion.

"Oh, it's really funny," she said, her dark eyes lighting up. "I was at the frame store where he works, getting a print framed. I wanted one from the top shelf and I reached..." she gestured, nearly upsetting her beer, "and, well, all the frames fell down and Seth came over to help me and ended up knocking more down and then he was nearly fired!"

Emmett laughed and Rosalie smirked a little and played with her drink. Alice snorted and nearly poured her beer down my shirt.

"Yeah, that sounds like Seth, rescuing damsels in distress," she crowed. Rachel ducked her head and I noticed Seth look towards us, perhaps hearing his name.

"He didn't try to feel you up?" I asked. I was teasing. I knew Seth wouldn't do any such thing, but I couldn't help myself.

"No," Rachel said. "He was quite the gentleman. Asked me out for coffee. He didn't even try to kiss me until the second date." Yeah, that all sounded like Seth.

I coughed, _Pussy_, and Rosalie nearly snarfed her drink across the table.

"What?" Rachel asked. If we hadn't all been half in the bag I wouldn't have told her, but we were and I did, and Rachel blushed.

"Oh my god, you guys screwed on the second date, didn't you? Good boy, Seth," I muttered and toasted Rachel.

Rachel's good-girl pretense fell away for an instant and she winked at me. We all stared, and then Emmett guffawed, bringing the attention of the pool-playing men.

The party broke up soon after. I hugged Seth and Emmett, and on drunken impulse I even hugged Rachel and gave Rosalie a kiss on the cheek. Rosalie seemed to take it with good grace. At least, she didn't try to stab me with a knitting needle. Quil gave me a friendly handshake and told me again how pleased he was to meet me.

I had to insist on driving Edward, as well as Jasper and Alice, on the grounds that I was the least drunk of all of us. Jasper tried to find an argument for that, but the shocking amount of booze in him made it impossible. I felt a little thrill at knowing that this weekend I was the most clear-headed of the group. Not that I was anywhere near sober, but at least I could walk without closing one eye.

I drove Jasper's jeep back to our house, Alice and Jasper making out in the back seat, Edward sitting beside me.

"Did you have a good time playing with Seth and his friend?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered, still slurring a little, though I doubted most people would notice. "We won a couple of bucks off of them. Jas and I tried to make things more interesting, but they weren't going for the prom dress challenge." Jasper snickered from the backseat.

"The what?" I asked.

"You don't want to know," said Jasper and I decided that maybe he was right. Edward chuckled beside me and leaned his head back. Alice giggled and noises from the backseat suggested she was trying to get Jasper undressed.

"Hey! We're almost home. Keep your clothes on kids!" I yelled. I cranked the jeep into the driveway, ending up with the passenger-side tires halfway on James' lawn. I was too giddy to try adjusting my crap parking job.

We all tumbled in a silly, laughing heap through the door and I locked it behind us. Edward followed me through the dark house to my room, to my bed, to my arms.

I hadn't expected anything from him, in his inebriated state, but when I slid into bed in my panties and camisole Edward's hands were suddenly on my breasts. I gasped as he pulled me up against him, spooning me.

"Hey there, sparky, don't start anything you can't finish," I murmured.

"Who says I can't finish anything," he answered, his voice low and raspy, but sending a shiver through me.

"All that booze you drank tonight says you won't be able to finish anything," I teased, but Edward took my hand and pushed it against his groin. I was surprised to find he was naked under the covers. When had he stripped? More surprising, though it took me a moment to process, was his hardness. I'd had plenty of experience with the detrimental effects of beer-dick, and Edward was far past what I would have considered limp-dick territory, but here he was, locked and loaded.

I may have made a sound, and Edward's lips were on my ear, in the dark.

"Bella, beautiful. I want you."

I couldn't say no to Edward, especially on a magic, perfect night like this. With a few quick movements he helped me out of my cami and panties. Our position would have seemed relaxed were it not for his erection pressing heavily against the back of my thigh.

With his hand hard against my torso, he pulled me closer to him, and ran his mouth along my collarbone to my neck, gently biting. As a ripple of pleasure went through me from groin to neck I arched, pressing my ass firmly into him. Edward groaned. His hand moved down between my legs, touching my sensitive clit and sliding easily past it. I squirmed and my hands gripped his arm spastically.

His fingers dove into me, slowly stroking until I was quivering and moaning. I laced my fingers together with his and guided his speed. It felt wanton, as if I were masturbating with his hand. I felt his cock against the back of my knuckles with each pass, hard and waiting. I reached my other hand down and gripped it, feeling the throb of the silken skin. I wondered if he would come like this, but he had other plans.

"Hold still," he ordered and released me to roll away. I let my own fingers explore the depths he'd recently abandoned, languidly touching myself as he had done earlier. He returned with a condom and put it on quickly before sliding back against me, his chest to my back.

Edward slipped his hand back down to cover mine. Before I could twine my hand into his again, he gripped my thigh and raised it up over both of his legs, spreading me open while keeping me on my side. With a remarkable lack of fumbling, he guided his substantial length into me, his fingers stroking me as he did so. I sighed.

Slowly but with firm thrusts, he rode me, his hand coming behind my thigh to stroke my clit. With one hand I touched myself while touching his cock as he moved inside me, and the other hand reached back to grip Edward's hair.

He stifled a loud moan into my shoulder and I felt his teeth scraping my skin. My nails scratched him, and he just grunted louder, each thrust bringing us closer together. I bit my lip to prevent the scream that bubbled up as his thrusts hit against the deep place that made every muscle in my body tighten and sing. He fit perfectly with me, inside and out, I thought erratically.

Edward's arm, trapped under my torso, curled up to pull me closer against his chest, as if he could fuck us into one person. Maybe he could. He raised my leg higher, and with the new angle he drove deeper and harder into me. I gasped and jerked in his arms, my nails clawing at him, as I reached my climax. A few more hard thrusts and he came with a growl and we lay still, twisted together and panting. He released my leg and gently stroked my tangled hair out of my face.

"Bella," he sighed with what sounded like satisfaction.

"Oh, Edward," I gasped. "You're perfect. I..." I trembled as the last tremors worked their way through me.

He pulled away to tug off the condom. Turning back to me with a contented sigh, he wrapped his arms around me, laid his head against my neck, and was asleep in moments. I nuzzled his hair and went to sleep with a smile on my face.

XXX

**A/N: Thank you to MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly. **

**I appreciate everything that readers have to tell me, please review.**


	17. 17 Pollock

**A/N: SM owns Twilight and all its characters. This story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

**XXX**

**ASC 17 Pollock**

Jasper was weirdly perky the next morning for all the drinking he had done the night before as he banged on my bedroom door at nine in the morning.

"What the fuck are you waking us up for?" I yelled. Edward rolled off the edge of the bed, hitting the floor with a dull thud and a moan.

"Breakfast, Bella, my treat!" Jasper called through the door and I rolled my eyes. Edward muttered something from the floor. I nearly got his shoulder in the face as he wrenched himself back up onto the side of the bed.

"Yeah, man, we'll be there in a minute," Edward said as he began pulling on his boxers. I ran my hand down his bare back.

"_We_?" I asked Edward, snuggling closer and pressing my nose into the silky skin at his lean waist. "Are you sure _we_ need to go anywhere?"

"I never say no to a free breakfast," he said, stroking my hair. He was squinting at the windows and I imagined he must have a whopper of a hang-over.

"What do you think got into Jasper? He's never this fucking chipper in the mornings," I mused aloud.

"Maybe he wants to celebrate," Edward muttered groggily.

"What does he have to celebrate?" I asked curiously.

"Why don't you ask him?" Edward growled, and heaved himself to his feet. I sighed. Obviously Mr. Big and Hung-over wasn't giving straight answers this morning.

"Stuffed French Toast!" Jasper sang out.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting up," I said, flinging back the covers, "but it had better be a really good breakfast!"

Jasper graciously allowed us all to shower and take a smoke break before he dragged me, Alice, and Edward out. Edward grabbed his book bag from my room, which seemed strange, given that we were just going to breakfast, but I didn't think to ask him about it. With Edward and me crammed in the backseat of his jeep, Jasper took the freeway through downtown and due East, the same route I took to drive to my mom's in Phoenix.

Before we passed the cement tangle of the Harbor interchange, Edward was out again. I took advantage of the time to examine him. Even with day-old scruff on his jaw and shadows under his eyes, he was startlingly beautiful. He was languorous, his head leaning against the window with his jacket bunched up as a pillow. I let my gaze follow the graceful curve of his neck to his angular jaw. His full lips were lax in sleep but so tender-looking. I leaned against the opposite window and watched him as Jasper sped Eastward with us, he and Alice talking quietly up front. I noticed they held hands almost all the way.

By the time Jasper steered off the San Bernardino Freeway I was sure we must be close to Palm Springs.

I climbed out of the jeep to find we were in front of a building that looked like a Denny's but with a different sign. Something I had never heard of before, a family place.

"Fuck, Jasper, couldn't you find a diner without driving us halfway to Arizona?"

Jasper rolled his eyes. "Just wait until you have the stuffed French toast, Bella, it's a religious experience."

Alice looked at him doubtfully. "I'm thinking I agree with Bella. What are we doing here beyond the borders of civilization?"

"Claremont isn't beyond civilization, Alice, stop being such a snob. We're still in L.A. County."

"Barely," I snorted.

"Are we here already? That was quick." Edward mumbled, and Alice and I turned in unison to gape at him. He slung his strangely bulging bag over his shoulder and walked into the restaurant. Alice just shook her head and smiled. Were all of my friends going crazy?

"Seriously, Jasper, why are we eating breakfast all the way out in bum fuck nowhere?" I asked as we stepped inside and joined the throng of breakfasters waiting for a table. Edward fought his way to the hostess podium, leaving Jasper, Alice and me to wait near the door. In our ragged jeans and leather, the three of us blended in with the mostly college crowd.

"I love this place. I was out here last fall for an Iron Pour at Scripps College. Some of the grad students brought me here. I thought this was the perfect place to celebrate Alice's agreeing to marry me," Jasper said, smiling blissfully.

I gaped at Jasper and then at Alice.

"What?"

Alice smiled and held out her hand, showing a delicate silver ring, a small diamond nestled into the vine-like twists. Edward returned to us and gave the ring a quick glance before rummaging in his bag. Jasper wrapped his arm around Alice's waist and hugged her to his chest, resting his chin on top of her head and smiling beatifically.

"When the hell did this happen?" I asked, incredulous.

" Jasper proposed last night, after we got home from the bar," Alice said sweetly.

"I thought you two went to your room to shtup," I said.

"We did. Jasper proposed before the shtuping commenced. He got completely naked ..."

"Whoa," I interrupted, holding up my hands. "I don't need a blow-by-blow."

Edward snickered, as he caught the last part of what I said. I playfully slapped his arm before turning back to Alice.

"You know what I mean. So Jasper proposed and you accepted? Isn't this a little ... fast?"

Alice shrugged. "I know what I feel, Bella. Jasper is special. I knew the first time I met him that he was the man for me, the one I would marry." She had the blissed-out look I'd normally associate with Ecstasy use, but Alice never did drugs.

"Wow," I said. I really couldn't frame any other words. Jasper's smile grew.

"That's why I borrowed Edward yesterday. He helped me make the ring." My eyes widened at this information.

"You knew?" I asked Edward incredulously, which at the moment seemed more astonishing than the idea that he'd helped Jasper in the metal studio.

Edward looked shifty. "Of course. Didn't I tell you?"

"When?" I demanded.

He at least had the grace to look sheepish. "Um ... I guess not. What should I have said? 'Hey, Bella, can you keep a secret? Jasper is going to propose to Alice.'"

"Okay, I might have had a problem keeping a secret like that." We all laughed and Edward smiled at me with the warmth in his green eyes. As we followed the hostess and Edward let Alice and Jasper take the lead, he quickly pressed a kiss on my lips before we followed them to a comfy booth.

I had to admit, after we'd stuffed ourselves with the most decadent breakfast ever that Jasper might be right about the French toast. Alice moaned and leaned back, patting her flat tummy and letting out a burp that somehow sounded dainty. I certainly couldn't make a belch sound lady-like, but Alice did.

Jasper threw his arm around her shoulders and hugged her into his side, laughing.

"Baby, you are so cute," he said, and Alice just grinned up at him. I was so glad to see their obvious delight in each other. Alice deserved a guy who looked at her the way Jasper did. I turned to Edward, who was watching me surreptitiously. He smiled when I caught him watching me.

"I have to admit I have ulterior motives for dragging you two out all this way for breakfast," Jasper confessed. "I'm kidnapping you all for a night in Vegas. The Killers are playing at Mandalay Bay tonight, and I have tickets for the four of us."

Alice squealed in delight and grabbed Jasper's face to kiss him hard. My mouth dropped open. Edward didn't seem surprised at all, and I realized he'd been in on it the whole time. The mystery of his bulging book bag was revealed. Edward was prepared and hadn't given me the least heads-up. All I had with me was my wallet, phone, and sketch book. Maybe a lip gloss. Fuck.

"Oh, Jas," Alice squealed when she finally let Jasper breathe. "You know me so well. This is perfect!"

"I knew you'd like it. You and I have some celebrating to do, and when I told Edward, he wanted to get in on it too."

"A little music, a little time at the tables, a last party with you crazy kids before I head off," Edward said with a happy grin. He looked very pleased with himself. I still gaped.

"Are you all nuts? What about school?" I asked generally.

"It's just one day, Bella. You said last night that you've completed the work for the scholarship," said Jasper.

"Come on, Bella, live a little," Alice chided. The Killers were her favorite band. If Jasper had suggested we drive to Hawaii to see them she would have been on board in a heartbeat. It was probably a good thing the Jeep wasn't a secret submarine car.

I looked to Edward without any real hope that he'd be on my side. I knew the Rambling Man would be encouraging me to take a chance and do something without planning. He just gave me a wink.

"I don't even have a change of underwear," I groused, but my will was weakening.

"Like that's ever stopped you," Jasper muttered, and Alice elbowed him.

"Bella, it's not like we're going camping in the Amazon. I'm pretty sure Vegas has shopping options," she said. She knew I just needed one more push.

"There's a Wal-Mart just off the Fifteen near Barstow," Edward added. "We can stop and get stocked up there."

"You guys are nuts," I grumped.

XXX

The drive to Vegas is a surreal experience. The seemingly unending urban landscape of L.A doesn't just peter out, it abruptly ends. Just past Barstow the desert takes over and there are miles of massive clear blue sky and broad tan desert. After the bleached out artificiality of Los Angeles, the desert was refreshingly real.

Even though the air in Death Valley was crisply cool, the bright sun made the jeep hot. We had the windows cracked to keep the interior from becoming stifling, and the wind whipped around our heads like a tornado. I pulled a brush out of my bag of Wal-Mart purchases and yanked it through the tangles the wind was creating. Edward gently took the brush and began brushing my long hair for me. I turned my back to him to make his job easier and looked out the window at the desert. It was more than a little strange to see the mountains with snow to the south of us, instead of north, where my brain always insisted they should be.

Some people seem to think the desert is dead, a giant sandy vacancy, but it has vegetation. It's prickly and more grayish than greenish, but life flourishes. Life isn't only about green lawns and trimmed shrubbery. The stark beauty of the desert has always amazed and impressed me.

Now, in late winter with the rains to feed it, the plant life along the highway was greener than usual, with sprinkles of color on the otherwise neutral landscape.

I felt weirdly light. This impromptu road trip may not have been part of my plans for the weekend, but now that I had surrendered myself to this scheme, I was actually looking forward to the adventure with a giddy delight.

I pulled a ponytail holder out of my knapsack and handed it to Edward. His hands were still for a moment and then he handed it back.

"I think I'd just make a mess of it. You should probably do it yourself," he said. I turned back to face him as I pulled my hair back into a floppy bun.

"It's a mess, anyway, you couldn't make it worse," I said.

"I don't know about that."

"You did a good job brushing," I said.

"I've had a lot of practice brushing girls' hair."

"Oh, really?" I asked playfully, imagining sisters, or maybe his mom, but the sudden change of expression made me realize just where he'd likely gotten the practice. His eyes dropped to his hands and he became abruptly serious. When he lifted his gaze to me again he seemed quietly distant. The serene mask I knew from our early acquaintance was back.

"Have you been to Vegas before?" he asked.

"Not for years. My Mom and Dad took me when I was a kid. I ... wasn't old enough for anything but riding on the rollercoaster at New York, New York and seeing the pirate battle at the Pirate Bay."

"It's a lot more fun when you're old enough to really do it all: gamble and go to the shows and that kind of thing," he smiled.

"I don't know about the gambling," I said, thinking of my bank account. If I knew I was going to get that scholarship...

"Don't worry, Jasper and I will probably do enough gambling for you and Alice both."

"Are you really going to play cards?" I asked. "Like poker and stuff?"

"Yeah. I'm good at poker ..." Edward paused as Jasper snorted from the front seat. "... although my current lack of luck suggests I may have a false sense of skillfulness. I was thinking blackjack, actually."

"If you play blackjack as badly as you play poker, you'll be broke within an hour," Jasper said over his shoulder.

"Even with a raging hangover I can still wipe the floor with you, Whitlock," Edward said cheerily.

"I don't think so, Cullen. You're all hat and no fucking horse," Jasper snarked.

"Want to make a wager?" Edward asked evenly.

"You're on! We start with the same amount and the one with the least at the end of the night has to wear nothing but ass-less chaps to the L.A. Gay Pride Parade."

"When is that?" Edward asked.

"I think it's in June," Alice said. Trust "Little Miss Thing" to know. She probably went every year.

Edward didn't respond right away, and I knew he was thinking about the time frame, but Jasper jumped on the hesitation.

"Cold feet, Cullen? You know you're going to get smoked!"

"How's that fucking cock-ring feeling, Jas?" I interjected, and Edward brayed with laughter.

"That's not the issue, Swan!" Jasper yelled. "What do you say, Cullen? Is it a deal?"

"We each start with a thousand dollars in chips and have three hours of play. Any table, any casino, blackjack only, loser wears nothing more than ass-less chaps, boots, and a pink bandanna to Gay Pride," Edward stated.

"Deal," Jasper said, and put his hand over his shoulder for Edward to shake.

Alice turned to me and winked.

"And that cock ring? It feels a lot better than I expected," she said conspiratorially.

Edward stared for a moment before covering his ears with his hands while I roared with laughter.

XXX

"I'm glad you decided to come, Bella," Alice said as we poked into another shop. The Forum Shops at Caesars were pretty much the same as a mall. A really upscale, over-priced mall with statues that were really people with paint on them, but still a mall.

Alice had declared that even though she had nothing against the place for her panties and makeup, Barstow Super Wal-Mart would not be supplying her outfit to see The Killers. She had an image of herself in a pale yellow, or maybe aqua, sundress. I was sure we wouldn't find it in Abercrombie and Fitch, but Alice insisted on checking. Despite the cool March weather in Nevada, sundresses were in nearly every store and Alice seemed to think that's what she needed.

"Yeah, shopping by yourself wouldn't have been as much fun," I said wryly.

"It's not that. Well, maybe a little. Really, you're my best friend. I know you think I'm being stupid, but you're still here, and that means the world to me."

"Stupid?" I repeated, confused. "Why would I think you're stupid?"

"You've never made it a secret that you think marriage is for losers, Bella." Alice fingered a rack of ugly shirts absently.

I frowned. "I don't think marriage is for losers."

"Well, that's how you make it sound, with all the snide remarks about how marriage ruins a perfectly good relationship, how people only get married for economic reasons, how everyone should just skip right to the divorce. Stuff like that."

"I was only ..." I drifted off. I couldn't even justify it to myself.

"It's okay. I know your parents divorced when you were pretty young. That'll scar you. I'm glad to see you're changing."

That brought me up short.

"Changing?"

"Yes, I've noticed the change in you since Edward came around. You seem really happy."

"That's just lust," I said dismissively.

"I don't think so," Alice mused as we moved on to look at the bras. I grabbed a sport bra and tossed it in the cart while Alice frowned at the selection of lace bras. "You've been different since he started spending the night."

"Getting laid will do that," I said.

Alice turned and gave me a look that seemed to see right through me, and I felt uneasy. "This isn't like when you were sleeping with Mike. You're not cussing as much, for one thing. You look at Edward differently. You look at everything differently. You like him, don't you?"

"Sure, I like him. He's absolutely great in bed and he's a fantastic model." I tried to make my expression blank, but she just snorted and kept walking.

"Okay," I admitted as I caught up with her in the jeans section. "I _maybe_ have feelings for Edward."

"Have you told him?" she asked.

"What? No!" I turned away and feigned interest in the jeans. I grabbed a pair and held them up. "Do you think these are me?" Alice wouldn't buy that act for a second.

"You would never spend a hundred and fifty bucks on a pair of pre-ripped jeans. You're too cheap. Stop trying to distract me. Why haven't you told him?" she asked. Little twit couldn't just drop it.

"No fucking way! A hundred and fifty dollars? That's fucking insane." I tossed the jeans back on the table and eyed them warily. A salesgirl glared at me and I shook my head at her in disgust. Alice just waited, one eyebrow arched. "What difference does it make? He's leaving, and he's carrying a huge fucking torch for his ex-girlfriend..."

"I've seen the way he looks at you, Bella, like you're something precious. Maybe you should tell him."

"Thanks for the matchmaking, Tevya, but I don't think Edward and I are destined for the happily ever after."

"Why not?"

"Look. He's not some kind of fucking _thing_ I can keep in a box. He's not all domesticated like Jasper. Edward is like some wild animal that lets me feed it and pet it, but if I tried to keep it in the house it would crap in my closet and bite me when I tried to pick it up. I'm not going to try to keep Edward where he doesn't want to be. That's what killed his last relationship. I don't want to be just another shit-brained girl who tried to lock him up."

"How do you know that he doesn't want to be tamed?" she pressed. I pursed my lips for a moment, gathering my thoughts.

"You should see him when he talks about the road, about being away from everything and everyone, about being free. He becomes ... light. Transcendent. He's like air and fire and wind. How can I hold onto something like that?" I gestured uselessly with my hands, trying to express the look in Edward's eyes at Zuma the day before. His whole being had lit up when he talked about being on the road. Just like this unplanned adventure had appealed to him right away. The thought of being free of plans and obligations excited Edward beyond anything I could possibly offer him. I huffed out a breath.

"You don't have to hold onto him, or keep him locked in the house. Love isn't a trap, Bella," Alice lectured. "I know that's how you see it, but it doesn't always have to be that way."

"'Love will set you free?' That sounds like a cheesy song."

"Bella, the right love doesn't have to be a trap. It can make you feel freer than anything else. Finding love is like finding yourself."

"Is that what it's like for you and Jasper?"

"Yes. It's not easy to trust someone so completely, but I do. He knows who I am and knows what I need."

"Yeah, I'll bet he knows what you need," I muttered with a salacious sneer as we walked out of the store.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Bella. There's more to love than finding the perfect dick." Alice and I walked through the bustle of the Forum shops under the illusion of a dusk sky. We still had a few stores left to look into.

"Maybe, but the perfect dick sure can make up for a lot of other problems," I continued. "I like Edward, but being compatible fuck-buddies doesn't mean we're soul mates or something. Fucking and being in love isn't the same thing."

"I know that, but they're not as far apart as you think, either. Are you telling me that you can't stand being around him when you're not fucking?"

"Not at all. I like being with him."

"Why?"

"Well, he's beautiful, he's a great model, and he's hot as sin," I said.

"There are a lot of guys in L.A. who fit that profile, Bella, including some of the guys you've screwed. But you're not hanging around them anymore, are you?"

"Well, they annoyed me."

"And Edward doesn't?" she asked.

"Not yet, but this conversation does," I snapped irritably.

"Fine, Bella. I just think you should tell him how you feel, whether you call it love or whatever, before he's gone and it's too late."

Alice turned her back to me and walked into the store. I trailed behind her, caught between irritation and fear that she might be right.

XXX

Jasper and Edward met us under the sky bridge of Bally's, the casino they'd chosen for their challenge. The changing lights of the grand front entrance changed the colors of their cigarette smoke from pink to blue to lavender.

Even before Alice asked how the challenge had gone I knew the answer. Edward had the relaxed and open look I knew meant he was feeling rather pleased with himself, while Jasper looked more anxious, but still had a big smile.

"I came out over twelve hundred dollars richer than I went in," Jasper said, "but Edward did better still."

"How much better?" I asked. He shrugged modestly, and looked over my head as he exhaled smoke, but his mouth curled in a poorly suppressed smile.

"Up by two thousand," he said. "I was up by more, but I started losing there at the end."

"There, there, Jas," Alice said soothingly. "You've got lots of time to go shopping for chaps before Gay Pride." Her sympathy was undermined when she dissolved into giggles. She and I held onto each other and laughed. Even Jasper joined in. I was so glad he had a sense of humor about it.

The men took our shopping bags and we walked through the huge casino to reach the elevators to the towers. By the time the elevator doors slid shut I felt like my head would ring for days with all the bells and sirens.

I was surprised when Edward held me back from stepping off the elevator at the fifth floor with Jasper and Alice.

"But our room ..."

"Not anymore," he said, as the doors shut behind Jasper and an equally bewildered Alice.

"What do you mean?"

"I got us a different room," he said. We rode up two more floors and exited into a plush hallway. We walked until I was sure he was taking us all the way to the fire exit, and that this was just his idea of a joke, when he opened the last door, letting me walk into the room ahead of him.

I walked past him and stopped short in shock.

"What the hell..." I gasped. "Who did you bribe for this?'

The room was massive, at least three times the size of a normal Vegas hotel room, with a king-sized bed against a wall of mirrors. Opposite the floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall windows two wide marble steps led up to a Jacuzzi set in the floor between more mirrors. Altogether the room was probably bigger than my house.

"I got comped for a suite," he said, coming in behind me. "Just a little sweet-talking, really. I think the girl at reception was flirting with me. It's nice, huh?"

"Nice?" I asked rhetorically. "It's fucking amazing." I turned away from Edward, taking in the immensity of the room. I watched in the full wall of mirrors as he stepped up behind me and slid his hands around my waist and under my shirt to lay warm hands on my belly.

"I'm glad you like it," he whispered, his warm breath and rough cheek sending a thrill through me. I put my hands over his, guiding them up to my breasts, and rolled my hips back into him.

"Mmm, it's dreamy. I really want to use that tub."

"I was thinking more about how we could take advantage of the mirrors," he whispered as he nuzzled my neck. I shivered at the movement of his lips on my skin.

"We ... we don't have much time," I stuttered as his mouth and hands moved over me.

"Then we'll have to hurry," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice, though his face was hidden in my neck.

Within moments he had stripped both our clothes off and was standing behind me as we faced the mirrors. He stroked a warm hand down my torso and I could see him in the mirror, smiling as he watched his hand slide down my stomach. His other hand cupped my breast, lifting it as if in offering. I was hot and wet and ready for him, as always, and I felt, rather than heard, the growl in his chest when his searching fingers discovered this. His fingers dove into me, testing, teasing. I panted and my knees shook as he worked me.

We didn't make it to the bed. Instead Edward threw our clothing on the marble steps and laid me back on the cold floor. He tasted me, teased me with his tongue, discovering anew every inch of my body as if he would map me out from memory. I pushed him back so I could reach his cock, licking and kissing before wrapping my mouth around him and sucking him hard. Edward's fingers wrapped in my hair. He moaned, pumping into my mouth a few times before drawing back with a sigh.

I dropped back onto my elbows to watch him fetch a condom from the Wal-Mart bag of necessities. He made short work of getting it on. Then he knelt on the step below me and curled his body over mine, putting one strong arm under my shoulders to take some of the hardness of the marble. He kissed me as he guided himself into me. I arched as I took him in, the sensation of his slow entry making me cry out.

For all his earlier talk of hurrying, he seemed disinclined to rush. I dug my fingers into his shoulders as he moved, and I braced my feet against the bottom step as we let the rhythm sweep us under. His lips were at my ear, my throat, my eyes, kissing me gently with each thrust of his hips.

"Look," his deep voice rasped in my ear. "Look in the mirror."

I turned my head and gasped at the sight before me. We were between the mirrored closets flanking the Jacuzzi, and every inch of us was visible. I watched in the reflection as Edward's eyes flickered down our bodies to where we were joined, and he moved one hand down my thigh to lift my leg over his back, giving him greater visual and physical access.

I ignored the way my little breasts bounced with each motion, the goofy porn-girl expression on my face, the scars on my ribs, and focused on Edward. I watched raptly, the combination of sensation and images, the sight of his cock sliding in and out, his buttocks flexing, was dizzyingly erotic, nasty even.

Each motion, each touch of skin on skin, each glimpse of body parts, was both a delight and a torture. I needed him, more. I moaned loudly as my orgasm rocked me from head to toe. Edward came right behind me after a last few hard thrusts. He turned to nuzzle my neck. I placed light kisses along his temple.

"Was that too uncomfortable?" he asked, as our breathing returned to normal. I regretfully disentangled myself from him as he lifted off of me to remove the condom.

"Oh, no," I sighed, taking his offered hand and getting shakily to my feet. "Just cold."

"Well, maybe we can take a hot shower and warm you up. I think we have time for that."

I padded back to the shower to run the water and warm it up. I was about to step in when Edward came around the partition, completely naked, holding something out to me.

"Oh, I nearly forgot," he said, offering the small plastic case. "I took something at your house I thought you'd want."

I stared at the plastic case in his hand, trying to process. I hadn't forgotten about my pills, just figuring that between using rubbers and only missing one day, it wouldn't make much difference. The thing that was twisting my brain was that Edward had it.

"How...?" I asked, and stopped, not sure exactly what I was asking. Edward looked as casual as it was possible for him to be, standing beautiful and naked with my pills in his hand.

"I saw them on your dresser last weekend. I thought you might want them this weekend." He seemed relaxed, as if he was talking about a book I was reading.

"So. You knew all week that I was on the pill?" I said, quietly demanding. Edward nodded, clearly confused by my question.

"And you didn't try to get me to go bareback."

Edward's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "I figured you had your reasons," he said.

"Like what?"

"It doesn't matter. I figured if you wanted to go without the condoms, you'd tell me."

I snatched the pill case from his hand. "Thank you," I said ungratefully. I felt bad immediately. He was just being thoughtful and considerate. "I just believe in being careful, you know?"

Edward nodded in agreement, seeming relieved somehow. I put the case on the bathroom vanity and got in the shower.

XXX

"But I thought all women were supposed to want a huge wedding," Edward said to Alice, resuming the conversation they'd been having during our taxi ride to Mandalay Bay, where the House of Blues was nestled between the casino and the shopping area. He was trying to figure out Alice's disgust at the mention of wedding plans as we walked through the casino. I had already realized that no matter where we went in Vegas, a casino had to be traversed to reach our destination.

"Well, I wouldn't mind the storybook wedding, but I know what would happen. My mother and my aunt would take over. My cousin Rachel got married last summer, and it was all these friends of my aunt and uncle and our grandparents in this big Temple in Thousand Oaks. More than half of the guests were people she and her husband Danny didn't even know. It was awful."

"Can't you just tell her 'no'?" Edward asked. "Have a small wedding?"

"You obviously haven't met Mrs. Brandon," I said, squeezing his hand as we walked. I felt a little glee at holding his hand publicly. "She's a force of nature."

"Bella, you don't have to sugarcoat it. My mom's a bitch. If we're lucky, she won't make Jasper convert. At least he's already circumcised, so she can't do a bris."

"Yikes!" Jasper exclaimed uneasily. I felt Edward jerk his hand as if to protect himself.

Alice turned to Jasper. "I know it sounds weird, but I wish we could just have a small wedding without my mom killing us. Rachel's wedding took forever to put together. It was crazy. I just want to be married to you already.

"Baby," Jasper said, giving Alice a peck on her nose, "If you told me you wanted a quickie wedding, I'd do it. Being married to you is the only thing that matters. Whatever you want."

Alice's eyes widened, she suddenly stopped and exclaimed, "That's it!" We all turned to her. A couple of elderly women at the quarter slots turned and glared at her before returning to their machines.

"What?" Jasper asked.

"We're here anyway, aren't we? Why not just get married?" Alice proposed with a giddy grin.

"What, now?" Jasper asked.

"Yes, now. Right after the show." Alice had that determined tone that would harbor no argument. Edward and I were matching frozen statues. Jasper blinked spastically for a moment, and I worried that he'd had an aneurysm. I would have, if I was him. Then he grabbed Alice into his arms and whooped loudly. Even with the din of the slot machines, it carried. Edward and I gave each other similar looks of _do you believe this shit _incredulity while Alice and Jasper made a huge production. He was bouncing her in his arms and laughing.

"Yes, baby, let's get married tonight. Let's do it!" Then the two of them turned to Edward and me.

"And you two can stand up with us, be our maid of honor and best man. It's perfect! Will you, Bella, please?"

I couldn't think of what to say. I should have seen it coming from the comments Alice was making while we were shopping, about love and knowing that Jasper was 'the one' but I was still shocked. I looked down at my turquoise sundress, purchased at Wal-Mart.

"Well ... as far as bridesmaid dresses go, this is probably better than most." I gave Alice a thumbs up.

Edward nodded in agreement and shook Jasper's hand.

While Alice and Jasper went to find the concierge and ask about wedding chapels, Edward and I headed into the House of Blues. The open night club, with a bar along one wall, was great for small shows, very intimate and funky, but intentionally so. Like Disneyland, it was an amazing imitation of something real. There was already a crowd, mostly women, mostly more hip than I was. Edward got more than a few stares but he pulled me tight against him as we made our way to the bar.

"Alice isn't kidding, is she?" he asked after we had ordered our drinks.

"No, she's totally serious. Once she decides what she wants, she's unstoppable."

He shook his head. "I just can't believe that Jasper went along with this."

"Why? Look at what he did last weekend. The song at the club and now with getting engaged. If anything he's just as bad as Alice."

"Good, they'll make a great couple," Edward muttered and slugged back a gulp of the whiskey he'd ordered.

The club got more crowded as the time approached for the band to take the stage. I saw more than a few women eyeball Edward, from his motorcycle boots and long lean legs to his sex-tousled hair. A few gave me the stink-eye, obviously sizing me up as competition. As the stares became more blatant, Edward edged closer to me, wrapping one hand around my hip.

Jasper and Alice arrived and debriefed us on the plans. They had made a reservation at the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel, a name that made me snort.

"Is Elvis going to marry you?" Edward asked.

"No, better! They have a Rocky Horror wedding going down tonight and we piggybacked, so Frank-N-Furter is going to marry us!" Alice cried with delight.

Edward groaned and I cackled wildly at the thought. Before we could get any more details, the band came on. With the opening notes of 'Somebody Told Me' we turned to watch them.

XXX

"I can't believe you almost punched that woman," Edward said as we got out of the cab at the Wedding Chapel. It was chillier than L.A. at this time of year and I shivered in the cool desert air. In just three short years I'd forgotten how cold the desert could be in March.

"She was grabbing your ass," I laughed as I gripped my jacket around me. "And if you hadn't looked like Bambi about to get run over by a fucking semi, I might have brushed it off. But I thought you needed defending."

"I don't think I've ever had a woman grope me before," he commented with more than a touch of horrified wonder.

"Sure you have," Jasper said as he held Alice's hand and steered her into the building. "Remember Tanya's roommate at the UCSB frat party...?"

"Oh, yes. Well, I should say I've never had a stranger grope me." I raised my eyebrows at Edward and he smiled mysteriously.

"Long story. There were drugs, alcohol, and a bet involved."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," I said.

We didn't have long to wait before the preparations were made and we were ready to go. We signed some papers, Alice picked out a cheap bouquet, the wedding rings were purchased, and we were ushered into a small chapel. Magenta fluffed my hair and Riff-Raff escorted Alice down the aisle to the wedding march from Rocky Horror.

Frank was so tall in his platform heels that even Edward and Jasper had to look up at him. That left me and Alice nearly eye-level with his black-panty-clad crotch. I tried not to stare but wondered if he had padded his package.

I finally let my eyes rest on Edward. He was watching Jasper and Alice with his intense green gaze, and he seemed oddly tense as Frank talked about loving and cherishing. Even with the fake Frank's lipstick smirk and gartered attire, the words he was saying were deep and meaningful. Love. Respect. Being united into one soul, never to be divided.

As I told Alice, I never really had anything against love and marriage, I just ...

I had never seen it as something that I was destined for. Like many things, I thought it was a lovely idea for normal people, but not something that I would have the luxury of knowing. Being an artist made me feel a bit separate from the mundane parts of life, and love was one of those parts.

I was staring at Edward as he looked on with a serious expression, and realized that what Frankie was talking about was exactly what I felt for him. I wanted nothing more than for him to be happy, and to give myself to him, to be near him. I loved Edward. I had realized it before, but it hadn't really hit home until now. Listening to the marriage vows, knowing that Edward and I had so little time to be together, I faced that feeling full-on.

I was in love with him.

It didn't really matter, in the greater scheme of things. I wouldn't ask him to stay in L.A. for me, to give up his dream of being on the road. I didn't really want to ask anything of him. His being was enough. I smiled as I realized this, but Edward didn't see it. His gaze was still focused on Frank.

"...then by the powers vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may hump the bride."

Jasper and Alice kissed, hard, and the rest of us, me and Edward, Riff-Raff and Magenta, even Frank himself, applauded enthusiastically. Edward finally looked at me, and my heart missed a beat even as I worried about the solemn look in his dark eyes.

**XXX**

**Shtup: Yiddish word meaning to poke, generally used to refer to fucking.**

**Tevya: main character from Fiddler on the Roof, a man obsessed with getting his daughters married off.**

**XXX**

**A/N: I'd like to state unequivocally that though this story is based on my and my friends' experiences in art school, it is not strictly autobiographical. It is a fictionalized version of my life. **

**Thank you to Irritable Grizzzly and MrsDazzled for beta skills, to PrincessBella for prereading and giving input. And thank you to the others (you know who you are) who listen to me ramble and don't tell me to bug off.**

**Thank you to everyone out there reading, reviewing, and reccing. ASC recently had a great write-up by AmeryMarie on the Lickable Lustorium Blog.**

**I love to hear what readers think.**


	18. 18 O'Keefe

**SM owns Twilight. This is my story. I lived it, I keep it.**

ASC 18

O'Keefe

After the wedding we walked to an all-night bar. Jasper and Alice were giddy and gleeful, barely noticing how quiet Edward and I were.

I was still in shock, my revelation making everything else fade into a blur. _I'm in love_, I thought. How bizarre. As we walked down the Strip, through pools of light and darkness I found myself sneaking peeks at Edward. He was still the angelically beautiful man I'd always seen, but somehow my realization of my own feelings put him in a new light.

Waiting at a stoplight, we stood slightly apart from Alice and Jasper as they cuddled. My hands were jammed into the pockets of my jacket. I watched as Edward lifted his cigarette to his mouth and drew in long slow drag. He exhaled, squinting through the smoke that swirled around his face for an instant before flying away. His eyes were focused on something a million miles away.

"Hey," I said softly. He turned to look down at me, slowly returning from wherever his thoughts had been. "Are you all right?"

Although they were aimed at me, Edward's eyes still seemed unfocused. As if I wasn't really there. His brows knit together in confusion.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"You just seem... far away," I said.

My comment must have seeped through. He seemed focused again, and smiled a little, the first smile I'd seen since the wedding.

"I'm right here with you, Bella."

He put his arm over my shoulders and squeezed me into his side. I relaxed into the warmth of his lanky body, but I didn't believe him.

XXX

We had our drinks, toasting love and marriage and friendship over and over, anything and everything, until we became absurd. Alice and Jasper were too enthralled with each other to notice anything unusual about me and Edward. Edward seemed moodier than usual, but I couldn't keep the goofy smile off my face. Maybe Alice just figured I was happy to see her happy, which was true, just not entirely.

Perhaps Edward and I were acting normal. Perhaps I had never seen, or never wanted to see, his distant coolness. Yet I couldn't keep my eyes off him, as if I hadn't already memorized every plane and angle of his face. Even my fingers crept closer, eventually linking with his on his thigh and then resting alone on his leg when he removed his hand to roll a cigarette. A cigarette he never lit but twirled endlessly through his graceful fingertips.

The conversation swept by me. I took part. I spoke, laughed, drank, tried to pretend to be a normal person, but nothing was normal. I wasn't normal. I was giddy. I was terrified. I wanted to scream it and I wanted to bury myself far away. Surely the realization that I was in love must shine through my pores and blind everyone around me. Or maybe not. Like my paintings, something mundane had been transformed into something sublime, but this time the transformation was inside me.

Once Jasper and Alice left us and headed to their own room, Edward and I lapsed into quiet. I wanted so badly to know what was on his mind, but he seemed to have erected a wall of silence around himself. Though he stood beside me, I felt alone.

I followed him mutely down the plush hallway, watching his easy stride.

Once we were in the room, he went straight to his bag by the desk, shedding his jacket as he went. I headed to the bathroom, washing my face and trying to untangle my thoughts. I should just go out there and tell him I love him, I told myself, but I paused, my own words coming back to taunt me. I wouldn't try to tame him. I wouldn't try to own him. I would just keep my feelings to myself.

"Coward," I muttered at my reflection.

When I finally came out of the bathroom, wearing just my panties and the t-shirt I'd worn to breakfast, Edward was at the writing desk that faced the windows, the curtains open to the brilliantly-lit view of Vegas at night. He was typing at his computer, bent over the screen as his fingers flew over the keyboard. With slow feet I walked to where he sat and touched his shoulder. His typing didn't slow but he made a noise of acknowledgement.

"Edward, I'm going to turn in," I said softly, my voice as unsure as my head. "Join me?"

"In a bit," he replied, "Let me get this out first." He turned and kissed my fingers so fast I could have imagined it, and then returned to his writing. I resisted the urge to read over his shoulder and turned away.

I sat in bed with my sketch book and pencil for a while, drawing him as he hunched at the desk. He kept typing in a frenzy of creative activity. A part of me was disappointed that he didn't want me when we had so little time left, but if I was in the zone I wouldn't want to be interrupted either. I could wait; the writing spirit couldn't. Eventually my eyes were too heavy to keep open and I set aside my pad before I fell asleep on it.

I closed my eyes, the clicking sound of his keyboard as a lullaby.

I woke in the dark. At first I was unsure what had awakened me. Then Edward called out wordlessly, a pained sound. I rolled over to find him huddled on the far side of the bed, fast asleep, his hands grasping on air.

"Edward?" I whispered and moved closer to him, finally putting my arms around his neck and pulling his tense body close to me. He resisted a moment before melting into me, curling his long lean body around mine. I tucked his head into my shoulder and stroked his hair, shushing him gently. His hands twitched, and then curled around my ribs, clutching me tightly as his forehead pressed against my collarbone. His lips moved across the top of my breast. An inappropriate twinge of lust shot through me and I buried my nose in his hair and breathed in the musky smell of him.

"It's all right," I whispered. "I'm right here, I..." Even with Edward sleeping, the words shriveled in my throat. I gulped back my emotions.

The tension left his body slowly, but gradually the guttural noises ceased and his muscles unknotted. I continued to stroke his hair until his breathing returned to the slow and heavy tones that told me he was in a deeper sleep than before. His hands gradually released their tight hold on me.

For a long time I lay quietly, staring unseeing at the darkened ceiling. I wanted to live inside this moment, with Edward lying heavily across me, and to never let him go. We had one more day and one more night together. I would tell him when we got back to Los Angeles, when we were back in my own bed. If only I weren't such a fucking coward...

Sleep didn't come for a long time, and when it did the sky was becoming a leaden gray. Finally it seemed like I blinked and when I reopened my eyes the room was brightly washed with sunlight.

I was alone in bed, and I looked around frantically. Edward was leaning into the closet.

"Good morning," I said, and he turned at the sound of my voice. He was wearing nothing but jeans, his lovely chest bare. His hair was darkly wet and tousled. The scowl on his face melted away at the sight of me sitting up in bed.

"Good morning," he said, pulling a black Circus Liquor t-shirt out of his bag. He slid it over his head and came down the marble steps to sit beside me.

"How was your night, Sleeping Beauty?" he asked with a grin before turning his back and reaching down to pull on his boots.

"Just fine. Did you get some good writing done last night?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, looking around and dragging his boots over. "I guess I stopped around four."

"You must have had a lot on your mind," I prompted.

"Mm. Jasper and Alice's wedding ... well, it made me think about a lot of things."

"That's the point of weddings, isn't it? To make everyone think about love and commitment and all that crap."

"Yes, exactly."

I scooted across the bed to sit behind him and wrap my hands around his waist, throwing my naked legs out to either side of his hips. He put a hand over one of mine, giving it a squeeze before lifting it to his face and pressing my fingers to his cheek. He was quiet for a long moment, seeming contemplative. Then he stood and walked away from the bed.

"We've got about an hour before we need to check out," he said calmly as he went to the desk and closed up his computer. "Do you want to get a shower?"

"I can think of something I'd rather do," I said with a suggestive leer.

"I thought maybe you'd want to use that Jacuzzi," he said as he unplugged the power cables and rolled them up.

"Are you going to join me?"

"No, I want to get everything together. You go ahead, take your time." At his words I leapt off the bed and crossed to him, sliding under his arm to hug him.

"Then what's the fucking point? I don't want to waste any of the time we have left."

I kissed the base of his throat, which was as high as I could reach. He dropped the cables and closed his eyes. His fingers twisted into my hair and he bent his head to mine, his lips drifted hungrily across my eyelids, down the side of my nose to my mouth.

I tilted my face to his, and our breath merged as we kissed. It was hungry and tender at the same time, lips soft and moving gently. I slid my hands under his shirt searching for contact with his smooth skin. As I pressed myself against him I could feel the bulge in his jeans that told me he was responding to my half-naked presence. I reached for that hardness and he made a throaty noise as my hand made contact. We came apart, and I looked up into his heavy eyes. My chest felt swollen with emotion, bubbling up inexorably.

"Bella, I'm going to miss you, you have been the best thing about being in Los Angeles. You are so lovely," he murmured. The hungry heat in his eyes made me melt. My brain took a vacation and left my heart in charge.

"I love you, Edward," I said, and immediately gasped. I bit my lip as if I could snatch back the words that had already been spoken, but it was far too late. Edward didn't move, just studied me with confusion. My stomach sank as I saw his expression change.

"Don't say that," he whispered flatly.

I was silent and dropped my arms as he stepped away from me. His face was a shuttered window, completely unreadable and closed off. My dismay began to morph into icy panic. I had known he wouldn't drop to his knees and profess his love, but I hadn't expected this quiet anger, either. Knowing he would not take my declaration well didn't make it any easier to watch.

"I'm not ready for this," he said, backing away and turning to gather up his computer. "I can't. I'm sorry, I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I can't! I don't ... feel about you that way. I can't give what you're asking --"

"I'm not asking anything of you, Edward. I didn't mean to say it just now, but it's how I really feel."

I tucked my shaky hands under my arms. I stared at him as he shoved his things into his bag. He didn't look at me. On numb legs I walked to the bed and sat down. My lungs felt like they were in a vice, I couldn't take a breath. I stared out the window at the Vegas skyline. It seemed to wobble as if an earthquake was bringing everything down, but I knew it was just me.

"Why couldn't I keep my fucking mouth shut," I moaned. I was a fool, an idiot. I should have waved him off into the sunset. I could have cherished this time with him and let the loveless fuck charade stand.

I felt Edward's hand on my shoulder.

"Bella," he said, his deep voice harsh and low, "I care about you, really I do. I'm just not... I'm not ready to deal with this." He broke off and sighed heavily. "Can't we just 'be'? Isn't this enough without boxing us in and putting a label on it?"

"I'm not trying to box you in," I whispered hoarsely. I clenched my teeth to keep the tears back. Anger swelled hotly. "I don't want that any more than you do."

"Love is a lie. It's not real. It's not salvation. I'm so sorry, Bella, I didn't mean to use you this way. If I thought ..."

"You weren't using me. I'm a big girl, Edward, and I was a consenting fucking partner," I growled, and abruptly the desire to be around him was replaced by an equally strong desire to be alone. I reeled blindly to the bathroom, closing the door behind me and leaned against it. I put my face in my hands.

"Bella, please don't --"

"Don't fucking patronize me, Edward," I yelled through the door. There was silence for a long moment and I thought I could hear a sigh.

"Bella, I'm sorry. I don't want to leave like this. I'll be back in half-an-hour. We'll talk then." I could hear something touch the door, as if he was trying to open it.

I didn't respond. I heard the stomp of his boots on the marble floor as he walked away. The click of the door closing was faint, but it reverberated in my head. I waited until I was sure he wasn't coming back and dragged myself into the shower.

Despite the scalding water pouring over me, I shook as though chilled.

What had I done?

Why couldn't I just keep it to myself? I was so happy in my realization and I knew telling him was a huge mistake.

There was no going back, so I had to put plan B into action. I was a champion at stitching closed my emotions, at turning everything inward, turning all that pain into art. I'd done it before and I could do it again. I let my emotions slide away and run down the drain.

XXX

When Edward returned I was sitting on the bed and brushing out my hair.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly, his eyes not meeting mine as he glanced anxiously around the room.

"Yep," I said and tossed my brush into my Wal-Mart bag and gathered up all my stuff. Edward grabbed his bag and with a last glance escorted me out. I marched ahead of him.

We met up with Jasper and Alice in the lobby. While Jasper and Edward checked us out of the hotel, Alice and I took everything to the Jeep. We reconvened at the brunch buffet, and Jasper and Alice led the way, holding hands. Edward and I fell into step next to each other. I kept my eyes on our friends in front of us. Once we had our plates and were moving around the massive spread of food, I found Edward beside me while Jasper and Alice were at the waffle maker.

"Bella," he said as I scooped scrambled eggs onto my plate. "I really do care about you. I'm sorry it's --"

I cut him off before he could tell me again how he didn't love me.

"Don't worry about it, Edward. Forget I said anything. Let's just enjoy our time here today, and you can get on the road when we get back to L.A." Although I wanted nothing more than to take him home and have him in my bed tonight, I didn't want to hear him make up an excuse about leaving early, or worse, staying the night but sleeping on the sofa.

I continued to focus on dumping food on my plate, but from the corner of my eye I could see him trailing behind me.

"Fine," he said after a tense pause, and silently began loading his plate as well.

I didn't have much appetite, although I ate some of the fruit. I just pushed the ham and eggs around my plate, only tasting a few bites. The greasiness nauseated me and I had to put down my fork. Alice eyed me curiously and asked if I was all right. I responded that I was a little queasy and shrugged it off. She looked for a moment like she might pursue it, but after eyeing the two of us sitting stiffly apart, she pressed her lips together and was silent.

We went sightseeing. It was awkward, with Jasper and Alice truly enjoying themselves while Edward and I trailed behind, a conspicuous space between us. We watched the pirate battle. I half expected the buxom girl pirate's costume to fall off with all the swinging and water and everything else, but amazingly the show remained G-rated. We rode the coaster at _New York, New York_ and took the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower in _Paris_. Too bad I couldn't enjoy any of it. We walked and rode the tram and then took a cab back to Bally's and piled into the Jeep and headed back to L.A.

Pleading a lack of sleep the night before, Jasper and Alice got in the backseat and left Edward and me to figure out the driving. We stared at each other for an awkward moment before Edward took the keys with a sigh.

It was a long drive. Edward and I didn't speak, and Alice and Jasper were curled in a little puppy pile in the backseat, dead to the world. I wished I could sleep, but, as tired as I felt, I couldn't close my eyes. I found myself watching Edward's hands on the steering wheel and on the stick as he shifted. I couldn't look at his face.

Edward drove faster than Jasper, but the sun was setting when we reached Barstow, and by the time we pulled into the driveway behind my Chevy it was full dark. I was out as soon as the Jeep stopped, shaking Jasper and Alice awake.

"We're home, Sleeping Beauties." Using the phrase reminded me how Edward had called me that this morning when I woke up. Damn.

While Jasper and Alice roused themselves I walked to the front door. As I was unlocking it I heard a thin mewl, and looked down to find a lanky adolescent ginger kitten stalking up to me. I bent down and scratched him behind his ears.

"Do you want something, Red?" I crooned. "I don't think our milk is still good."

I pet the cat while Alice and Jasper followed Edward into the house, dragging bags. I crouched on the step, busying myself with the kitten. He had a blue collar but no tag. Not a stray, but just scouting the neighborhood for a handout, most likely.

Edward came back out of the house with his bedroll under his arm and his bag slung over his shoulder. I watched as he loaded up _La Poderosa_. I set down my bag, pulled a clove out and lit it, ignoring the way my fingers trembled. I dropped my eyes, not wanting to watch him ride away. I focused on feeling the softness of the kitten's fur under my fingers as he butted against my hand.

The next thing I knew Edward's black biker boots were pointed at me. I couldn't bring myself to raise my eyes from his boots, from the kitten bumping his head against my knee.

I flicked ash off my cig as Edward sat beside me. He reached out and stroked the young cat's head. The purring increased to a rumble.

"Bella," he said softly, and I hated the way I felt when he said my name in that low, lovely voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." His deep voice rasped against my raw nerves. He sighed. "You probably hate me."

"I don't hate you, Edward. I could never hate you," I said, my voice rough. It was the truth. I couldn't hate him for being who he was.

"I hope we're still friends. You are an amazing...woman." I didn't miss the pause.

_Friends_. Back to where we started. As if the past week had never happened. "I'll always be your friend," I murmured. If my heart was still beating it might have broken.

"That's good." Then he kissed the top of my head. I blinked at the sudden prickling in my eyes. He stood up and walked over to _La Poderosa_. I watched him put on his helmet and goggles and swing a long leg over to mount. Before he started it up, I called out.

"Good bye."

He nodded at me without a smile. "I'll see you around, kid."

_La Poderosa_ started with a roar, and with the noise the ginger kitten shot off under the bushes as though his tail had been lit on fire. Edward eased the bike across my lumpy lawn and out onto the street. I watched as he drove off.

"Don't call me kid," I muttered, as the sound of his motorcycle faded into the night.

I stubbed out my clove and headed back into the house, locking the door behind me.

XXX

**I know, this was a short chapter for such a long wait. The next chapter will be up very soon.**

**I have had several wonderful reviews and pms from readers telling me how this story has inspired them to get back to making their art, and I am so thrilled and touched every time I hear that. Keep the faith! Art lives!**

**Thank you to MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly, my lovely betas. Thank you to PrincessBella24 for pre-reading and giving feedback. Thank you to my friends, in and out of the fandom, for their patience in listening to me ramble. **

**I love hearing what readers think, so tell me. **


	19. 19

**SM owns Twilight. This story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

**Not Sigmund Freud the shrink -- Lucian Freud the artist. Look him up, chicas.**

ASC 19

Freud

I closed the front door on the fading sound of _La Poderosa_ driving away from me and stalked past Alice lounging in the living room. Jasper poked his head out of the kitchen as I turned into my bedroom.

"Was that Edward leaving?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied curtly and turned my back.

I stripped the sheets off the bed and threw them in the wash, putting fresh linens on the bed. My clothes from the trip to Vegas went in the laundry, too. I was putting my new cosmetics on the dresser when I saw the business card from Alec, the owner of AV Gallery. I had almost forgotten about him. Even though it was a mere forty-eight hours, Friday seemed a lifetime ago. I left the card out, where I wouldn't miss it.

As I was stuffing my camera and notebook into my bag to document my paintings for the scholarship, Alice came in and flopped onto my newly-made bed.

"Bella," she said, "What's going on?"

"Just cleaning up," I replied, not looking at her. I took my time making sure my camera was secure.

"I see the cleaning. I'm talking about you and Edward. The two of you could be king and queen for the moody, emo, stomping-and-scowling homecoming dance."

"It was time for him to go." I made my voice as light and nonchalant as I could. It took effort.

Alice's voice sounded smaller when she answered. "Oh. I thought he might stay...."

I wheeled around to look at her, my face a careful mask of indifference. "Nope. He's got things to meet, people to do."

Alice looked puzzled and genuinely concerned.

"Did you -- did you talk to him?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, I talked to him. I told him --" I huffed out an impatient breath. I really didn't like being quizzed this way. "I told him it's been fun but I was really craving donkey dick and he should get a move on."

"You didn't!" Alice gasped. She quickly recovered and mock-scowled at me. "Did you?"

"No, of course not. I told him -- I told him I have feelings for him and he freaked."

"He did a fuck and run?"

"Oh yes. Dramatically."

Alice bit her lip. "Well, crap. I'm sorry. I really thought he felt something for you. The way he acted when you were around, I was sure --"

"You know, I really don't want to talk about Edward. Not now and not ever again."

"Bella, bottling up your emotions isn't healthy. You need to let them out."

"Thanks, Doctor Phil, but this is me letting it out. I'm done with him. Now, I'm really tired. I didn't get a nap in the Jeep. I'm going to bed."

Alice went, but paused at the door.

"You know, it's okay to be sad sometimes. You don't have to be strong all the time."

I didn't answer her and she left me alone. I heard her and Jasper talking quietly in the kitchen, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and eventually the cottage was quiet. Still, I couldn't fall sleep.

There was nothing in my room to remind me of Edward. The one painting I'd brought home, the porno painting, was tucked away deep in the closet, hidden behind my winter coat. He had taken all his own belongings with him. I had no gifts and no trinkets to remember him by. With fresh sheets on my bed not even the scent of him lingered. He was gone, and I had whitewashed right over his presence.

XXX

The problem with whitewashing, I realized the next day, was that some images have a tendency to seep through as shadows, marring the perfect white plane of our existence. In the case of Edward, changing my sheets wouldn't be enough.

When I got back to my studio space on Monday afternoon and looked at all the paintings of Edward stacked against my wall, I had an indescribable urge to throw them into a chipper. Only the dangling carrot of the scholarship could stop me from taking out my emotional frustration on the innocent paintings.

Off the wood shop was a small windowless room set up with an eighteen percent gray wall and lights for shooting photographs. I dragged my paintings in and shot them all, making notes on each as I went, giving titles to every painting. Not one of them was titled "the asshole who couldn't love me back," though it did occur to me several times. The one with Edward kneeling and the map wings hovering faintly over his form became "The Shadow of Freedom". Most of them were simply "Edward" followed by a number.

After I was done and I'd made sure all the images were workable, I carried all the paintings back to my space and piled them against the far corner, nearly behind the armchair. I stood in my little space, out of sight of anyone, but surrounded by the sounds of the studio: the music, the hum of movement and voices, and the exhaust.

I didn't want to paint right now. I felt completely drained of ideas and creativity, so I shoved a cig behind my ear and headed to Seth's space.

He was sitting at his easel, delicately painting the shadows on a portrait of a young woman. I gave him a peck on the cheek as I slouched past and flopped to the floor, leaning against his wall. I fished my lighter from my pocket, pulled the clove from behind my ear, and lit it.

"Hey there, where have you been all weekend?" Seth teased.

I sucked the sharp smoke into my lungs and let it out slowly, trying to gather my thoughts.

"Alice and Jasper got married."

"No fucking way! I had no idea they were engaged!"

"Well, neither did I until we were halfway to Vegas."

Seth laughed. "So you were a bridesmaid instead of staying home having your way with Mr. Big and Pretty?"

"No, he came, too. Came and went."

"Yeah, he said something about leaving town when we were at the bar Friday night. Heading to Mexico. Or was it New Mexico? On La Ponderosa."

"_La Poderosa_, you idiot."

Seth just grinned, never taking his eyes off his work. "Takes one to know one. Didn't he tell you he was leaving?"

"Yeah, he told me." I said and took another drag.

"So what's with the pissy face? Did he run over your puppy on the way out?"

"No, I guess..." I didn't want to get into the issue of my love life. "I guess I need a new model. That or start painting fruit." I flicked ash to the floor and scrubbed it with my sneaker.

"Ah," Seth said knowingly, "a new model. You know, Quil would probably sit for you if you asked. I bet he can take your mind right off Mr. Big and Pretty." I remembered the tall black-haired guy from Friday, but other than a vague recollection of high cheekbones and black eyes he hadn't made that strong of an impression on me. Still, the idea was interesting. I filed the information away for future reference.

"How is your scholarship application going?" I asked.

"Fine," he shrugged. "I'm entering paintings from last semester anyway. No sweat." I was surprised. The painting monster was entering old work?

"Why? Don't you have anything new?"

"Well, my new work is okay, but I think the work I was doing last fall was better."

I paused in the act of lifting my cig to my lips to eye Seth suspiciously, and then lowered it.

"Last fall you were pining after Heidi." Seth nodded absently at my comment. "Do you think sexual frustration makes for better paintings?"

Seth laughed and rolled his eyes. "I might have thought that until I saw your painting last week, with Mr. Big and Pretty holding his dick. Bella, if that's what you paint when you get laid, you need to fuck a lot more often." I shook my head. At least Seth was the only person to see that painting. It wasn't going in the scholarship application or anywhere else it might be seen.

"I don't recall sex improving my paintings before," I mused, thinking back on Mike's and my short liaison last fall. Definitely not. My paintings hadn't shown any kind of change then. And if it was sex that had improved my paintings, I might be in for a long period of crappy work.

"I'm joking." Seth said, interrupting my contemplation of my sexless future. "I think you've just reached a fertile period."

"Don't even joke about fertility! Look at Jessica getting pregnant; maybe it's going around!"

"Productive, all right? It's not like Jessica has a communicable disease."

"It's only the oldest fucking communicable disease out there, Seth. Don't forget it."

Seth was laughing when an indignant Garrett came storming down the aisle.

"Hey, Swan!" he said, pointing at me. "Get out of here with the cigarette before I have to revoke your studio rights. You know you can't smoke around all these thinners and varnishes. Do you want to burn your face off?"

I stubbed it out on the concrete floor and made a face at Garrett. He nodded and stalked off. Childishly, I flipped the bird at his retreating back and got up to stomp off to my space.

"Well, I see the bitch is back," Seth laughed as I left.

XXX

I called Alec and set up an appointment to meet with him on Wednesday afternoon. I submitted my scholarship application. I painted. Keeping busy kept me from dwelling on Edward, though sometimes it was as though he was there in the armchair, talking to me as I painted. I tried not to look at the chair, not wanting to ruin the illusion.

Maybe it was just Seth's comments, or maybe it was just my subconscious torturing me, but I kept thinking about Jessica. The way she and Paul had looked on Friday night. It was a tableau I remembered in minute detail: the way she stood close, looking down, her shoulders hunched as if waiting for a blow, Paul staring off into space, his face stony.

I understood now what I had seen. It was the same as it might have looked had someone spied on Edward and me Sunday morning when I let slip my revelation. Jessica wasn't just pregnant with Paul's baby. She loved him. And he didn't love her.

The paintings became darker, looser, paint dripping like sweat. I watched the red paint diffuse in the water as I rinsed my brush, looking like passion itself spreading out and becoming muddied.

I painted that scene of Paul and Jessica, but it became Edward and me. I used a mirror for myself, but I had no problem painting Edward from memory. I remembered every detail.

He didn't call.

XXX

Tuesday I came back from my morning class to find someone sitting in my armchair. I stopped short, shocked into stillness.

"Bella, I was hoping you would be here!" Jessica said as she stood up and smiled. My stomach dropped. I really didn't need this.

I summoned all my newfound compassion for the twit as I forced a twisted smile onto my unwilling face.

"What are you doing here, Jessica?"

"I wanted to warn you," she said.

"Not to fuck Paul? No problem, I'm not interested in reproducing, especially not with that dick."

"How --?"

"How did I know Paul knocked you up? If I hadn't realized it at the club last week, I'd have known after seeing you at the Student Show on Friday. I may not be a genius but I can figure that shit out."

"I thought maybe you were ... you know..." she admitted quietly, looking up at me from under her curtain of curls.

"Definitely not." We stood there facing each other. Jessica dropped her eyes and wrung her hands. The silence stretched out. I felt awkward, my recent insight made me feel like an unwitting voyeur into Jessica's life.

She pointed to the painting on my easel, Edward's figure hunched over his laptop roughed in with viridian.

"That looks promising." It sounded like she was trying to make friendly conversation. I didn't intend to help her. I wanted to recede back into my solitude, wrap it around myself like a quilt, and she was a harsh reminder of my own reality. I didn't want to be like Jessica, and I didn't want her rubbing off on me.

"Thanks." I turned my back and began squeezing paint onto my palette.

"I see you're still using that gorgeous guy as your model."

"Not anymore." I didn't even look up.

"He was really great --"

"Yeah, but he's gone." I angrily ticked through my brushes until I found the one I wanted and began swiping dark red across the painting, the negative space becoming the color of raw meat. The viridian vibrated harshly against it and the hunched figure of Edward stood out whitely.

"Those paintings show a lot of love," she said softly. I didn't want to have this conversation with Jessica of all people. I didn't want my emotions laid bare for her.

"Love," I snorted. "So did you get pregnant to trap Paul into playing house with you? Did you stick pins in the condom?"

Jessica's eyes narrowed in an ugly frown. "I don't expect you to understand."

"Understand what? Either you're too stupid to use a rubber the right way or you're so stupid you think you'll trap a total player like Paul by getting pregnant and claiming it's his," I sneered at her. It was an awful thing to say, untrue and mean, but I couldn't find it in me to care.

"It's not like that!" Jessica raged back at me. "It was an accident but I'm not keeping the baby! I'm giving it up for adoption. I couldn't take something that was a bit of him and a bit of me, something that came out of love, and throw it away. If this baby is the only thing left from what Paul and I had together then so be it. I want something to live from this whole fiasco."

Jessica's face twisted and she stormed off. It made me happy. I was better off alone.

I got back to my painting.

XXX

Wednesday I drove to meet with Alec at his gallery. I took a CD of the work I'd submitted for the scholarship.

AV Gallery was smaller than some galleries but larger than it appeared from the street. The pale cement floors, exposed steel support columns, and white walls were standard gallery issue, but the current show was three painters, each with different but similarly whimsical paintings of animals and people. The crisp young woman I'd seen on Friday sat behind the large birch and glass desk, treating me with the complete condescension only art gallery staff can achieve. After she buzzed Alec and confirmed that I was expected, he came out from his office with a huge smile and arms open wide, kissing me on both cheeks before ushering me into his tiny and art-packed office.

He loaded my CD on his computer and we looked through the images. I had forgotten the painting I'd promised to Edward was on the disc until the picture came up. there was Edward, shirtless, looking at the viewer with a brooding expression.

"Is this one new?" he asked, leaning back in his chair to squint at it. "I didn't see it last week, did I?" He rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Um, no, it's not --"

He continued, obviously not listening. "It's fantastic, the best one. It'll be perfect for the website."

"It's not --"

"I may even have time to get it on a postcard, and send it out. Is it the same scale as the rest?"

"Yes, but --"

"It's definitely the strongest. It'll bring in my collectors."

"What?" I asked.

Alec turned and looked at me sharply. "It's the best thing you've shown me. I can use it to get collectors interested in your work. Even if it's sold I can sell the rest off that one piece."

"It's not for sale." I stated.

"Why not?"

"I traded it to Ed-- the model for his work."

"Well, give him another one," he said with a dismissive wave.

"I can't, he picked this one."

"Hm. Well..." Alec paused before continuing, his words coming quickly. "We can mark it sold or NFS. Yes. We'll put it on the postcard, and then tell collectors it's sold. Hm... yes."

"I'll have to ask him if he's okay with that..."

Alec nodded. "Do that." He stared at me expectantly, and I pulled my cell from my bag and pulled up Edward's number. It rang and rang before it went to voicemail. I was both dismayed and relieved. I wasn't sure I was ready to talk to him. "Hey, it's Bella. Um... the painting of you, the one I gave you ... um, I've got a show next week at AV Gallery, and the gallery owner wants to show it, and... he said..." I gathered my thoughts and rushed through the rest. "He wants to show it and it'll be marked Not For Sale. It's still yours, but can I show it? Give me a call as soon as you can, I need to know." I ended the call and shrugged at Alec.

"He wasn't there."

Alec pursed his lips. "Can I at least put it on the postcard?"

"Um..."

"It won't go in the show if you don't want it to, but it'll get people interested in your work. It could really be a draw." I bit my lip. Alec pressed on. "Alistair Reed might be convinced to come." The L.A. Times art critic's name jolted me. He'd send out a postcard to Alistair Reed?

"Okay, it can go on the postcard; I'll let you know about the painting by tomorrow night, okay?"

"Deal," he said. We discussed the details of the show: delivery of the paintings, information on the postcards, the opening night of the exhibit. My statement and bio were already on the CD I'd given him. Alec was patient and explained everything I could think to ask about. When I left he gave me a comradely pat on the shoulder.

"I have a good feeling about this show, Bella Swan. You're going places." I felt ten feet tall.

XXX

When I got home I went out in the backyard, lit up a smoke, and called my mother. The ginger kitten that had been hanging around came to where I sat, nudging my hand to be petted.

"Bella! I haven't heard from you in over a week, I was getting worried," Mom said in her best casual tone. I felt bad. Normally I called her every week, even if we only chatted for a few minutes. I'd been so wrapped up in Edward I hadn't called since he and I had gone to Disneyland.

"I've just been busy, Mom. I've got some news, though. I got a gallery show here in L.A." I had to hold the phone away from my head as Renee screamed. The kitten looked up curiously and reached a paw toward the phone.

"That's great, sweetie!" she exclaimed. "When is it?"

"The opening reception is in two weeks, on Saturday, April fourth."

"Two weeks? That's really short notice. Are you teasing me, Bell?" I couldn't blame her for feeling suspicious. She knew I had my Dad's sense of humor.

"No. Really. It's kind of a last minute thing, I know --"

"Oh! I can fly out to L.A. and be there for your opening!"

I realized as she said it how much I craved my mother's presence, her comfort. I wanted her to come.

"That would be great, Mom," I said with relief. I felt lighter already. "After the opening we can drive back to Phoenix and I could stay a few days. It'll be spring break, after all."

Renee squealed. "Oh, baby, that would be wonderful! I've missed you so much. I'll get reservations now!" I had to smile as we planned out how I would stay with her for a few days before driving back home. I had already planned on telling Alice I couldn't go with her to Mexico for Spring Break. I could always use the excuse about a family visit. She hung up and I was left there laughing as I looked at my phone. Her excitement had lightened my mood.

I'd just ended the call with my mother when my phone beeped with an incoming text.

_Show the painting. Sell it if you want. You don't owe me anything. _

I scowled at the phone and my heart grew a little harder. Although he didn't say it, I felt the message behind the words: I wouldn't be seeing him again. The bastard. I called Alec and told him the painting would be there. Then I sat in the backyard, the ginger kitten playing with my fingers.

I wouldn't sell the painting. It was still his; somehow I'd see that it got to him. I was sure Emmett could get me an address. I wanted to be sure I paid off my debt.

XXX

Friday evening found me at the Senior Show opening reception, wearing jeans with a nice sweater, a plastic cup of two buck chuck chardonnay in one hand and a mini pizza spizico in the other. Where would we be without Trader Joe's, provider of snacks and booze to starving art students everywhere?

I had just meandered over to the first grouping of paintings when I was nearly tackled from behind, my wine sloshing dangerously. I knew it was Emmett by the monstrous arms wrapping around my waist.

"Hey, Swan, glad to see you here. What do you think of my work?" He let me down as he was talking and I turned around. I was surprised to see him with at least a week's worth of beard and shadows under his eyes.

"I just got here, Em," I complained. "I haven't had a chance to see anything yet. Is the Thneed up?"

"Nah, that's in the student show. This is all different." Despite looking like he was worn out, he was jittery and his eyes were bouncing around the warehouse space distractedly.

Emmett took my hand and dragged me over to where his sculptures were displayed -- huge snaky stacks of knitted cables and ropes, configured into the shapes of trees and shrubs, some quite threatening.

"Wow," I said, seriously impressed. "Is this all knitted?"

"Yep. With my own two little sticks and a whole lot of welded armature." He told me a little about how he'd made them. I was impressed at the way he'd made something I considered homey so sinister.

"Hey, I was meaning to ask you," I segued, trying to sound as uninterested as I could. "Can I get an address for Edward? I've got something of his."

Emmett eyed me suspiciously. "You're not going to go beat him up again, are you?" he asked. My mouth dropped open in shock. I swung out of Emmett's grasp to glare up at him in righteous fury.

"What are you talking about? What the fuck did that jackass say?" I raged.

Emmett held up his hands. "He didn't say anything. He showed up on my doorstep late Sunday night, drunk and beat up. He then proceeded to drink the entire contents of my liquor cabinet over the next three days, including the jug of Vodka of the Gods I use for Xerox transfers. Wednesday night I got home and he was gone. I thought maybe you had dumped him."

I just gaped as Emmett described Edward's actions. It didn't make any sense. He dropped me like a hot potato and then acted like he was the injured party? And his hanging around for three days when he'd said he'd be on the road Monday didn't make any sense either.

"What a fucking emo retard," I muttered.

"You didn't beat him up?" Emmett asked with narrowed eyes.

"Shit, no, Emmett, though I wanted to. The last time I saw him he was whole and sober, though maybe stoned on his own self-importance and complete lack of regard for my fucking feelings."

"So you two _did_ have a fight?"

"No, we didn't have a 'fight'. I told him..." I huffed in annoyance before continuing. I didn't want to have to keep explaining, but this was Emmett, and if anyone could shed light on the mystery of Edward, it was his friend. "I told that lousy asshat that I was _in love_ with him and he fucking ran off like I had a venereal disease. What kind of jackass does something like that?" I was almost yelling and my eyes hurt.

Emmett's face was creased in thought and his gaze wandered up over my head. He nodded.

"The kind of jackass that's been so screwed over by love he doesn't even know when it bites him on the ass."

"What do you mean by that?" I demanded.

"You're going to have to hash that out with the emo-man himself," he answered.

"Well, that might be difficult, considering I don't expect to see him again," I said, thinking of his curt text message.

Before he could respond to my statement, Emmett was greeted jovially by the head of the sculpture department. I moved to the side and tried to look busy by reading Emmett's artist statement – a fairly standard art-speak paragraph about the dichotomy of nature and technology – while his professor congratulated him. I was waiting in vain. In a moment "The Clapp" came over to talk to him as well. Rosalie arrived and glided over to me.

"It wouldn't be good to interrupt, right?" she asked under her breath as she watched Emmett discuss his work.

"Correct," I muttered. We chatted a little while Emmett did his art shtick, but when it became obvious Emmett wouldn't be able to chat with us anytime soon, Rosalie and I drifted off to check out the rest of the show and find more wine.

The painter nearest Emmett's cabled trees had a series of a dozen large canvases, each one layered so thickly with images of childhood items – swings, blocks, dolls, rocking horses and more – that there was no background or negative space. It was a jigsaw puzzle of images.

Rosalie tilted her head at one painting, squinting. "I like it, but it's just pretty. Isn't art supposed to be about something?" I leaned in and read the statement mounted to the wall.

"Uh, just the usual drivel about using childhood memories to evoke innocence, blah, blah, blah." I said, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Roberta wasn't anywhere nearby. I breathed a sigh of relief as we moved on to the next student's work.

"What do you know about Edward staying at Emmett's this week?" I asked. I hoped that maybe she'd know something.

"I saw him Monday night. He was drunk and looked like shit. Did you give him that black eye?"

"No," I said.

"Too bad. I wondered what he could have done to piss you off so much. What do you think this one is about?" She knew less than Emmett did, and seemed unconcerned anyway. I answered her question, going on about the concept of space and home until her eyes glazed over.

Seth caught up with us as we were getting refills on the wine. He had Rachel and Quil with him, and I quickly found myself alone with Quil as Rachel and Seth whisked Rosalie away to go see the lard performance due to start momentarily.

I swirled my wine and looked at Quil. He grinned innocently.

"Seth said you had a question for me?" he asked. I was studying him. He was exotically beautiful in an ambiguous way. Hawaiian maybe? He didn't quite look Latino, but I couldn't place his features with any particular ethnicity. Interesting.

"Well, Seth thought you might be willing to model for me sometime," I said.

"I thought you were using your boyfriend, that tall guy I met at the bar last week." I winced internally but kept on with the proposal.

"He's gone and I need someone new. Are you interested?"

"Wow, you work fast."

"It's not like I can afford to be at loose ends for long."

He blinked at me. "I don't want to be a rebound."

Rebound? "What?"

"Your boyfriend dumped you and you're looking for another one this quickly? I don't know…"

"Are… You think I'm trying to get you in bed?"

"Aren't you?"

"No. I want a model. No bed involved."

"Really? I thought modeling was just a euphemism for … you know." He made a crude gesture with an endearingly sheepish look. We both laughed. Now that he smiled I could see he was rather handsome.

"No. I don't use euphemisms for sex. Would you be interested? In modeling, that is," I added quickly.

"Naked?" he asked, with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"You don't have to take your clothes off if you're not comfortable with it. It's up to you. Be aware though, I can't pay you much."

He seemed to consider. "What's the going rate?"

"Paintings or pizza, whichever you prefer. A painting is a gamble, since there's no way of knowing if it'll return the investment, but it's pretty. The return on pizza is constant."

"You know, for not being about sex, it sure does feel odd to talk to a woman about getting naked and getting paid for it."

"If you're not interested…" I threatened with a smirk.

"Oh, I didn't say that. I'll try anything twice."

"Twice?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah. The first time the batteries might be dead."

I laughed. I liked his flirty banter. We exchanged phone numbers and discussed which days worked best for him. Quil was majoring in engineering, and his classes were pretty light this semester, so he could work with my schedule pretty easily. He agreed to meet me at my studio space on Sunday afternoon once he was done with his usual racquetball workout. We wandered a bit together, discussing the artwork and cracking jokes. Quil didn't know shit about art but he was funny and witty and I enjoyed being with him.

We mingled, looked over the student work, and chatted with my friends. Jasper was just as ragged-looking as Emmett. Most of the seniors looked like they hadn't slept in the past week, maybe longer. Alice gave me a hug while never ceasing her lively conversation with Jasper's parents, flown all the way from Houston for their son's thesis exhibit. I was glad to see their support for him. For some college students the commencement ceremonies were the moment of triumph, but for art students the real mark of graduation was right here in this warehouse.

The evening was winding down and Quil had left with Seth and Rachel when I headed into the bathroom. I nearly turned around and walked back out again. Jessica was standing at the sink, one hand on its edge. Before I could back out, she had seen me, and I was stopped by the look in her big eyes.

"Bella," she quavered. Oh fuck, I thought, I'm in for another female bonding session. She was clinging to the sink like it was holding her up and I realized her face was pale and shiny. I hoped she wouldn't vomit on me.

"Hey, Jess," I said. "Isn't it late in the day for morning sickness?" She ignored my question.

"Could you find Lauren for me? She drove me here, but now I can't find her. I think I need to go home."

"Have you tried her cell?"

"Yeah, it's just going to voicemail."

"Let me see if I can find her." I said, but before I could leave, Jessica turned to face me fully and I stopped. Her jeans were stained dark between her legs.

"Oh, fuck," I muttered. She was bleeding. I couldn't leave her like this. I wasn't completely heartless. "Come on, Jess, let me take you to the hospital," I said as gently as I could.

"I really think if I go home…" she insisted, oblivious to the situation.

"Fine, let me give you a ride," I said, taking her arm and guiding her out to the parking lot as quickly as I could. I thought Alice saw me from across the room, but I didn't stop. As we stepped out into the cool night Jessica gasped and looked down at her legs.

"I'm bleeding," she said, stunned. "Maybe I should call my doctor."

"Let me just take you to the hospital," I said calmly, while inside I was yelling at Jessica for being so clueless. Then I realized the stain on her jeans had gotten larger and was continuing to grow. I tamped down my concern and focused on what needed to be done. Hospital. Now.

A group of students were standing by the entrance talking and smoking. I couldn't see faces clearly but Jessica paused as we stepped past.

"Paul?" she asked in a faint voice.

I saw him then. Saw him as he looked at her: saw as he turned his back on her. As I hustled Jessica away I heard a feminine voice ask "Paul, who was that? It looked like she sat in something." I heard the muted voices and a few chuckles behind us.

"Bastard," I muttered under my breath, resisting the urge to lean Jessica against the side of the building while I stomped Paul's nuts. He could wait.

At my truck I found an old painting towel behind the seat and put it down for Jessica to sit on. I didn't want blood all over the seat, even if it was vinyl. Jessica didn't question it. I got her settled in and ran around to hop in and start up the old Chevy.

"Which hospital?" I asked.

"K-Kaiser," Jessica stammered. Her teeth were chattering. I yanked off my jacket and put it over her.

As I drove as quickly as I could without breaking any laws, Jessica started to moan.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"It hurts," she groaned through clenched teeth. I glanced over at her hands clutching her abdomen. I pressed harder on the accelerator and the truck lurched forward. It was a good thing it was late and the streets weren't too busy. I pulled into the parking lot of Kaiser-Permanente and found the closest spot I could to the Emergency Room.

Jessica was doubled over in agony, and I practically had to carry her into the ER. I had to dig around in Jessica's purse to find her Kaiser card, and made sure the triage nurse understood she was pregnant. I even added something to suggest I thought she might have been shot, just to get her in that much quicker.

Seeing how Jessica's pants were nearly completely black with blood and I was half covered with it too, we were ushered to a triage room almost immediately. I tried to leave her at that point, figuring my duty was done, but Jessica wouldn't let go of my arm and finally the nurse suggested I stay with her. After all, she'd need a ride home. I sighed and relented.

I had to look away while the nurse peeled Jessica's stained clothes off of her and gave her a gown, net panties, and a maxi pad that looked like it could be used by an elephant. Jessica made a keening noise when she saw the blood.

"It's okay," the nurse assured her. "So you're pregnant?"

"Yes," Jessica said. "Eleven weeks."

"Are you under a doctor's care?" she asked as she took Jessica's blood pressure.

"Yes, Doctor Snow."

"Okay, I'll put in a call to his office. Have you had any bleeding before in the pregnancy?"

"No," Jessica moaned.

"Did you suffer some kind of trauma?"

"No, I was just at the opening and I felt kind of crampy," Jessica said. "And then the bleeding..."

The blood pressure cuff released with a gasp of air and Jessica squeezed my fingers sharply.

"Is my baby going to be okay?" she asked desperately. The nurse gave her a level look.

"Let's just wait to see what the doctor says. We'll have someone in here shortly."

"Everything will be fine, Jess," I said as the nurse left. I sounded more sure than I felt. If she were in any real danger the nurse wouldn't have left, right? There would have been all kinds of yelling and wheeling in of machines and an announcement of "stat!" over intercoms, like on TV. Not this quiet.

"When I told Paul I was pregnant he freaked," Jessica said. I gave my best sympathy nod, and she continued, "He said it wasn't his, and when I said it most certainly was, he told me to get an abortion."

"Why didn't you?" I asked, before I could stop myself. It's what I would have done in a heartbeat.

Jessica shook her head and I saw tears sparkling on her cheek. "I was going to, but I just couldn't. I was at my sister's house, and her friend was there with her new baby girl, and she was so ... tiny, and sweet, and … I just couldn't. This is a part of him and a part of me. I can't just throw it away."

"You're in love with him," I stated. She nodded sadly.

"He told me he loved me, before I got pregnant: now he won't even talk to me."

"I'm sorry," I said. I felt the same bewildering disappointment I heard in her voice, though Edward had never claimed he loved me. At least he'd never lied to me. Big fucking comfort that was.

"I didn't expect him to be happy about this. I mean, I'm not real thrilled either, but … I guess I wasn't expecting him to just …" she choked back a sob and I patted her shoulder awkwardly. She hugged me tightly.

I found my pity changing into sympathy. She hadn't asked for this. She was acting better than I could have expected, more mature than I would be. Really, what would I have done in her shoes? If I had gotten pregnant with Edward's baby and had to watch him literally ride out of my life...

I knew what I would do. Without a doubt, I would have had the abortion. What else could I do, put the baby in a backpack while I painted?

But then the image of an Edward baby, green eyes and brown hair, swam in my head, and suddenly I understood why Jessica said she couldn't abort the baby in her belly. If I knew I had that tiny fragment of Edward...

The Doctor came in with an ultrasound machine at that point, interrupting my images of a tiny Edward. Jessica held my hand and listened attentively as the doctor told her that he would be doing an ultrasound. He was also concerned about her blood pressure and blood loss, and would be giving her blood through an IV. While the nurse poked a needle in Jessica's arm and attached a bag of blood to her, the doctor did a vaginal ultrasound. I'd never seen one done before and really wasn't sure if I should be there, but Jessica wouldn't release me.

After he was done he turned to Jessica with a somber expression and placed his hand on hers.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It appears to be a complete miscarriage. You'll probably pass some more clots tonight or tomorrow. I'd like to check you into the hospital overnight since your blood pressure is unusually low and you're bleeding pretty heavily."

Jessica burst into tears.

XXX

She called her mother in Bakersfield and then asked me to call Paul for her. I got his number and used my own phone to make the call. I stepped to the window. It was still dark.

Paul picked up on the second ring. He sounded drunk but awake.

"Hullo."

"Hey Paul, its Bella," I said.

"Hey, Bella. What's up, kitten?"

Ugh.

"I'm here at the hospital with Jessica. She asked me to call you."

"There was silence. I checked the phone to make sure he was still there.

"Paul? Say something, you turd. I'm here with your girlfriend and she asked me to call you."

"She's not my fucking girlfriend," he breathed into the phone.

"The mother to your almost-baby asked me to call you and tell you she miscarried. I guess she thought you'd grown a heart in the past few hours, but I could have told her that was as impossible as you growing a fucking brain."

I ended the call.

"Is he coming?" Jessica asked.

"No," I said.

"Did he say why?"

"Because he's a moron," I said.

XXX

I left her finally about five am, when the Vicodin began to kick in. My buzz from the wine had faded and I was beginning to feel that level of tired where I knew I'd have a hard time falling asleep. So tired I wasn't even tired anymore.

The streets were nearly empty as I guided my Chevy home. During the quiet drive home, I began to think about Jessica.

I felt sorry for her, and I felt sorry for the way I had acted towards her. Not just recently but over the past few years. She wasn't bad, and she wasn't that much different than me. She'd fallen for the wrong guy, one who couldn't love her back. She'd fallen in love and gotten pregnant and he'd dumped her. He'd taken the love she offered and crapped on it.

I'd thought Jessica was pathetic but was I really any better than she was? A pretty face and hot sex and I became a sap. It could have been me, crying and bleeding in the hospital; it could have been me dropping out of school and wasting years of my life; it could have been me crying and wishing that he loved me enough to be there when I needed him…

The street lights made pools of light on the dark pavement, and they began to waver as I drove and thought about Edward. I thought about what Emmett had said about him showing up drunk and bruised on his doorstep after he'd left me. Had he been in an accident, or a fight? What if he'd really gotten injured? What if I never saw him again?

I made my turns carefully, driving slowly down the side streets, past the sleeping homes, the dark apartments. I felt a strange emptiness, an aching loneliness. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like I was underwater. Edward was gone to no-knowing-where. All I had were the paintings I had made of him and the mark he'd left inside me, something that I could never whitewash away.

As I turned down my street the Chevy's headlights picked out a form, a small gingery bundle in the middle of the road. Even before I could comprehend what it was, I knew. A ginger cat. Run over and lifeless.

I stopped the truck and got out, leaving the engine running and the headlights on. There was a dry knot in my throat as I approached, sure it was the kitten who had visited all week, the adolescent cat I had pet and fed bits of cheeseburger. The impetuous little thing. He'd never learn the lesson of traffic, and never grow up to lounge on my doorstep.

When I reached the cat and touched him, I realized it wasn't 'my' ginger kitten, but was some other cat, older and larger. Even though it wasn't "mine" it was someone's. It had lived and eaten cheeseburger from someone else's hand, and had been petted. Been loved. I touched his soft fur. The cat was intact – only his absolute stillness and the bit of blood on his mouth and ears showed he was dead. His fur was so soft.

Without thinking I went back to the truck and fetched the blood-soaked towel from the passenger seat and returned to gently, carefully, wrap the cat in it. I laid the towel and cat on the floorboards and drove the sixty yards or so home.

I carried the cat in the towel directly to the backyard and laid him down in the garden while I went in the garage to hunt for a shovel. All I found was a little garden spade, and I set to work digging a hole near the rose bush. Time was meaningless as I dug, and I found myself digging and whispering over and over again, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

And I began to cry. The first tears I had shed in so long. I hadn't cried when Edward told me he didn't love me, and not even when he left. I hadn't cried when he sent the terse text about the painting, letting me know he didn't want anything to do with me. I hadn't cried with Jessica over her lost baby. Now here, digging this hole in the middle of the night, with a strange dead cat by my side, I sobbed. When the hole was finally big enough and I put the cat in it, I cried like my heart would break. Tears ran down my face and dripped off my chin as I heaped dirt back into the hole, on top of the bloody towel shroud.

I sat in the backyard crying until I had no more tears, and still I cried, gasping. I felt like I was literally suffocating. I'd never let the air in. Never really let anything affect me. Edward had affected me, had changed me, and I couldn't go back to pretending I was that hard girl any more.

Alice found me as the sun was graying the sky. One minute I was still sitting in the dirt, my soiled hands clutched to my chest like I was holding together an open wound, and the next she was guiding me to the kitchen. Silently she washed my hands and face in the sink, then took the bloody clothes off me and tucked me in bed. I rolled my face into the pillow and sought the oblivion of sleep.

**XXX**

**Eighteen percent gray -- photographically neutral ground, often used to measure the amount of light hitting the object being photographed. Sometimes used as a neutral background for artwork.**

**Viridian -- a shade of dark green**

**Armature -- a metal support system for sculpture.**

**XXX**

**Thank you to Irritable Grizzly and MrsDazzled, my betas, and to Princessbella24 for pre-reading. Thank you to all the WC friends and the rest of you who put up with my absurd questions and ramblings. I've needed the levity while working on this chapter.**

**Thank you to all the ladies at the Perv Pack for the glowing recommendation. Thank you to everyone who is just tuning in, to everyone who has stuck with this story from the beginning, and everyone in between. **

**I love hearing what readers think about this story.**


	20. 20 Whistler

**SM owns Twilight. This story is mine. I lived it; I keep it.**

**Most people are only familiar with Whistler as the painter of the famous "Arrangement in Gray and Black", popularly known as "Whistler's Mother". My personal favorite is "Symphony in White #1", the Girl in White. It was that painting I was thinking of while I wrote this chapter.**

XXX

ASC 20

Whistler

I woke slowly. Without even opening my eyes, my nose was filled with the smoky, musky smell of _him_, and I felt the deep sigh of his breath. I pressed closer into him, inhaling deeply. Here. He was here. In my bed.

Then I woke more fully, and realized I was alone. I just shook with grief until I fell asleep with his ghost. I awakened several more times, to just roll over and return to senseless oblivion. Now it was noon, and my body had finally given up on sleep.

I pulled on my robe and padded to the kitchen to make some coffee. I was awake and conscious, though I still felt like a wrung-out dishcloth, limp and gray. My face in the mirror looked the same, but strangely unfamiliar too, as if I were looking at myself inverted.

It wasn't until I had the coffee going and I was showered and dressed that the quiet of the house came to my attention. It wasn't the sleeping quiet of a normal morning, but the silence that comes from emptiness. Alice's bedroom door was open, and there was no sign of her or Jasper anywhere.

I called Jessica and asked if she needed a ride home from the hospital. She told me her mother was on her way to pick her up and take her back to Bakersfield. She could recover with her family around her, and I knew that was a good thing.

"Bella," Jessica said quietly, "thank you for last night."

"No problem," I said. "Just take care of yourself, okay? I'll give you a call next week."

"That would be great," she said.

XXX

That afternoon found me and Emmett moving Jasper's crap into my house. Alice's house. Now Alice and Jasper and Bella's house. Jasper had only corralled me to help because of my Chevy pickup, and though he offered to just borrow it, I didn't want anyone driving it but me. I felt weirdly protective about it today.

"But you let Ed-" he began before Alice punched him in the bicep.

"It's no big deal, Jasper. You and Emmett can load, I'll just drive," I said, "and then you can buy the pizza and beer tonight."

So I drove with Alice while Jasper drove his Jeep. She talked the whole way, explaining how we'd split the utilities three ways and how it would be great to have Jasper around to do the heavy lifting. I just shrugged.

Alice gave me a few looks that I knew meant she was wondering about me, but I was too drained to talk about it.

Emmett and Jasper carried boxes and furniture and loaded up my truck while Emmett whistled the theme to the Beverly Hillbillies. Alice packed up Jasper's pint glass collection and I dawdled in the kitchen, keeping out of their way. I saw a recycling bin loaded with empty booze bottles, including a huge handled vodka jug. I remembered what Emmett had said about Edward and his three-day bender. I still didn't understand what might have happened after he left my house. He hadn't seemed too upset when he drove off.

It didn't make sense. I chalked it up to just one more mystery about Edward I'd never unravel.

I watched as Emmett and Jasper tied down the overloaded bed. The Beverly Hillbillies was an appropriate theme song. All we needed was Ma sitting in a rocking chair on top of the heap of stuff to make the picture complete. Jasper's Jeep was already filled to overflowing, but it was all inside, so no fears of anything flying off.

Jasper and Alice rode back in his Jeep, letting Emmett ride with me.

We were halfway to my house when he interrupted the comfortable silence.

"You're awfully quiet, Swan, are you okay?"

"I didn't sleep well."

"Did you take that Quil kid home last night?"

"No! No …last night was just a bad night." I didn't want to get into this, I didn't want to explain. The only person I felt I could explain this to – the cat, Jess' miscarriage, everything – was Edward. And he wasn't here. Emmett cocked his head, watching me chew my lip.

"Bella, I know Edward's been an asshole and I don't think you should forgive him, but he's got some major baggage. Don't hate him."

"I don't hate him," I said. I sounded distant and hollow, even to myself.

"You know, he isn't _quite_ the emotional cripple you take him for," he said. I didn't respond, and after a long silence I stopped at a light, and then turned to Emmett.

"Honestly, I don't hate Edward. I probably should, but I don't." He just stared at me with concern. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and quickly turned away. "I just don't understand..."

The light turned green and I gripped the steering wheel tightly as I took off.

We drove in silence a few more blocks before Emmett sighed, obviously having come to a decision about something.

"Edward and Tanya started dating our senior year. She spent almost two years chasing after Edward, and he just didn't seem to get it until she sat in his lap at Jack's Halloween party. They were great; the golden couple. They seemed to have it all."

I didn't say anything. This wasn't helping at all. I really didn't want to hear how perfect Edward was for someone else.

"I don't know why they stuck together after high school. Edward headed off to Berkeley and became a pot-smoking, motorcycle-riding, Jack Kerouac-spouting hippie and Tanya stayed in Santa Barbara and became a sorority girl. They went through periods when they'd break up for awhile, but they always got back together. I thought they were stupid, all that back and forth crap, but they seemed happy."

He was quiet for another block or so. I tried to narrow my focus to driving and tune Emmett out, but I was on autopilot, the truck following the familiar road as if on rails. I was too interested.

"About a year ago I could see that they weren't working out anymore. Edward told me everything was fine, but Tanya wasn't happy, and Edward wasn't happy. I think they just grew apart. Tanya blamed it on Edward's bohemian habits. He tried really hard to change for her - he cut his hair and stopped smoking pot - but she wanted him to fit into her image of what he should be. She pushed him too far and Edward just walked."

"He told me he loved her," I said softly.

"Maybe he does. I don't know. They're good people separately, but together they're poison."

We were almost to my house when Emmett turned to face me. My eyes stayed glued to the road, but out of my periphery I could still see him watching me.

"The past few weeks, before Sunday night, Edward seemed different. He seemed happier than I'd seen him in years. I really thought it was you.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out, Bella, I really am. It kills me to see this wreck that moron left behind. If you need anything, I'm here for you."

I pulled the Chevy into the driveway, killed the engine and fidgeted with my keychain while I put my thoughts in order. Different images flashed through my mind: Edward laughing at Disneyland, Jessica crying over Paul, Edward's face as he came, Edward's face as he told me he didn't love me, the ginger cat dead in the road.

"I'm sorry, too," I said, then took a deep breath. I felt my eyes burning, and ducked my head. I thought I had cried everything out last night, but I felt tears sliding down my cheeks. "If this is what love does to people, I don't think I can do it. How can anyone stand this? How do you live with it?"

Emmett didn't answer. His big arms just curled around me and I was pulled tight against his chest. I gasped, trying to control my emotions. I didn't want to cry again. Emmett just patted my back and rocked me.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" I cried into his chest.

"Nothing is wrong with you, Swan," he said gently. "You're perfect the way you are."

The twang of a bungee being released on the bed of the truck made us jump apart in surprise.

"Are you going to be okay?" Emmett asked as I climbed out of the cab. I nodded and we began the task of moving all of Jasper's stuff into the house. The work felt refreshing, carrying garbage bags filled with clothes and odd art projects.

Gradually the pile on my truck became a pile in the staging area of our dining room, where Alice was already unpacking stuff and moving it to the bedroom. I retreated to the backyard to wait for the arrival of our pizza.

Emmett came out carrying two bottles of Tecate to find me smoking a cig and poking the dirt with the toe of my sneaker. He handed me one.

"Alice said you got a gallery show?" Emmett asked with obvious interest. I hadn't really thought about it all day.

"Oh! Yeah, two weeks from today is the opening. Will you come?"

"Hell, yes, Swan! Anything to support my best ex-not-quite-girlfriend! Where is it?"

"AV Gallery in Culver City. I should have postcards in a couple of days," I said. Despite my despondency, Emmett's enthusiastic response to my news was heartening.

"You get me a few postcards, and I'll make sure the whole sculpture department shows up!" he assured me.

I grinned and Emmett chuckled.

"That would be great."

XXX

In my gray distraction, I'd forgotten that Quil and I had planned on his meeting me at the studio Sunday afternoon, so I was surprised when he arrived. I was in the middle of priming some new boards, my hands and jeans splattered with white gesso, and my Quirky Mix was blaring out of the speakers.

"Hey, Bella!" he said brightly. "Here I am. I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Oh! Hi, Quil. I forgot you were coming actually." I turned the music down a little and wiped my hands on the rag hanging from my pocket.

"Oh. Do you want to reschedule?" He seemed disappointed. I looked over his jeans and brown t-shirt stretched across a broad and muscular chest. I needed to get used to having a new model, and he certainly was pretty enough.

"Well, you're here; I should make use of you, right?"

He grinned at me. "Use me, baby, I'm all yours." I gave him a weak smile before I evaluated my painting supplies.

I only had one board gessoed from before; the rest of them were still wet. I put it on the easel and got him settled in the armchair. He leaned back with one elbow resting on the arm of the chair while the other hand dangled loosely down between his parted knees. His t-shirt stretched attractively over his chest.

"So what do I do?" he asked, bouncing his leg nervously.

"Get comfortable. Stop moving."

"I don't have to take my clothes off?"

"Not yet, okay? I'll just let you get used to sitting for now."

Honestly, I wasn't sure if I was ready for another nude model. Before the events of Friday night I thought I wanted a new model, a new man in my life, in my studio, maybe even in my bed. Someone to erase the taste of Edward.

Now that I had a perfectly lovely man in front of me, asking to take his clothes off, I couldn't muster up any interest.

Quil looked around while I prepped my palette and picked out a brush. I mixed a dark maroon, reds with a touch of viridian for depth, and quickly sketched in his form with loose brushstrokes.

"So, you're a junior, like Seth?"

"Yes," I replied. He was twisting his head around to look at the odds and ends I had tacked to my wall.

"Painting, huh?" he continued. "What are you planning to do when you graduate?"

"I'm going to draw caricatures of the visitors at Disneyland for five bucks an hour," I deadpanned.

"Really? Cool."

"No, not really. I'd rather poke my eyes out with a palette knife. Can you hold still, please?"

Quil shot me a guilty look and stilled. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'll be quiet."

I measured and answered at the same time. "You can talk; I just need you to hold still."

I paused, my brush poised upright with my thumb flexed against it. The sense of déjà vu was overwhelming. I'd had this conversation not so long ago, with a different man sitting in the armchair. It was like I was reliving the past month.

Except this time I was just playing a part. I felt like a spectator in my own life, not a participant.

Quil settled back into the pose, but it was off from where he'd been before. I waited a moment to see that he was really settled and adjusted the figure in the painting.

"So what do you do, Quil?"

"Me? I'm in pre-law."

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah, I love it. I'm applying to law schools this semester and it's been kicking my ass. I'm hoping to go to Loyola."

I had just gotten the negative space painted in when Quil shifted a little, probably trying to get comfortable. I stopped and looked at him.

"Please don't move." I said gently.

"I'm not moving," he replied. I stifled a sigh.

"You just moved."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I can move back."

I sighed.

"No, it's a lost cause. I'm not in the zone for this anyway. Can we just do this another time?"

XXX

After my Wednesday morning class I swung by Pearl Paint and bought a fancy sketch-book and set of mini watercolors and then drove up over the Grapevine to Bakersfield. Jessica was sitting in the front yard of her family's little ranch house in a bikini, getting a tan.

"Hey Jess," I said.

"Bella!" she cried and hugged me tightly. I returned the embrace awkwardly.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked, sitting down on a patch of grass by her side.

"I suppose. The meds the doctor gave me helped a lot, but I'm off those now. I'm just feeling a little tender." I watched her run her hand over her abdomen and her eyes were focused on something a thousand miles - or a week - away. I couldn't take the sadness.

"Hey, I brought you something," I said cheerfully. I gave her the sketch book and pencils. "I thought you could keep up your drawing until you come back to school."

Jessica gaped at me, then laid the sketchbook and pencils on her lap and stroked the smooth black cover.

"Thank you, Bella," she said, and tears glistened.

"If there's anything you need …" I said, and left it dangling.

Jessica gave me a weak smile. "That's nice, I may…" she lapsed into silence, and just petted the sketchbook.

"I'm serious, Jess. Let me know if you need me."

"Thank you," she sighed. I put my hand over hers and we just sat in silence.

XXX

Painting.

Without Edward, and without another model, I turned to my sketchbook for inspiration. Drawings of Edward asleep in my bed casually draped with a sheet, asleep on my sofa, lounging on my patio in jeans and bare feet. I had more drawings of him than I had realized.

Perhaps tracing his form from memory, reliving the look of lust in his green eyes, wasn't the best way to evict him from my heart, but it was all I had. I painted him nude, every part of his body exposed, and then collaged shredded map bits over his face.

I glared at the painting, the faceless Angel lying across the painted surface. Hiding him wouldn't change anything.

I mixed paint, a dull, lifeless dun, and considered Edward. I'd read "A Midsummer's Night Dream" in high school English, and I thought about Bottom, the donkey-headed clown and lover of the fairy queen. Shakespeare and lust. Lust and idiocy. Was I the fool, or was Edward?

I painted a new head on my angel - a donkey's head. Bottom with glass-green eyes. Then I set the painting against the wall with all the other paintings of Edward.

I withdrew into myself. Maybe I was moping, but I just retreated. I avoided places where I knew my friends would be hanging out, which put a big dent in my smoking habit. I even started avoiding the studio, preferring the silence of the library.

It was also to avoid the sight of Edward everywhere. By Thursday afternoon my postcards were all over the department, in every space, on every bulletin board. Everywhere I looked there was my name in bold letters with Edward's image beside it, staring out at me. I only went out among people to go to class.

I parked my gear beside Seth's in life painting and pulled an easel in next to him while Siobhan got ready on the model's stand.

"Hey, Bells," Seth said. I just nodded acknowledgement as I set out my palette and brushes. I couldn't think of anything to say. He looked at me curiously but I just pretended not to notice and went on setting up my materials.

After Berty had gotten the class going and the music was playing softly, Seth leaned over to me.

"You doing all right?" he asked softly, to avoid Berty noticing.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied.

"You've been awfully … quiet," he commented.

"I've just got a lot on my mind," I said, and left it there.

We painted in companionable silence for awhile, sketching out the rolls and folds of Siobhan's voluptuous form, Seth in oils and me in acrylics. It wasn't working out for me, but at least Siobhan was still. I'd never had a model as twitchy as Quil.

Hell, a sack full of monkeys wasn't that twitchy.

"Quil said Sunday went well and that he's coming back tomorrow for another session."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's right." Then I sighed. "Oh, Seth, he's nice to look at, but …"

"But?"

"The man can't hold still to save his life."

"Well, maybe he's not cut out to be a painter's model. Perhaps he'd be better as a photographer's model?"

"A photographer's model?" I asked, a light coming on over my head.

"Swan! Clearwater!" Berty hissed. When we looked to him he gestured for our silence. We returned to our paintings. My brain churned with the new idea.

"Hey, congratulations on the show next week. How'd you manage that?" Seth whispered.

"I just … I don't know. Lucky?"

"Well, whatever, it's fantastic. Almost no one ever gets a gallery show before graduation, especially in L.A. The scene here is so competitive."

"I know," I whispered, making sure our teacher was on the other side of the room and couldn't hear us. "Berty told me that I shouldn't try to break into the gallery scene until I'm out of school. He thinks I should focus on my work."

"Berty's just jealous," Seth said with a dismissive wave. "He hasn't shown in a gallery since Smith-Green Gallery went out of business two years ago."

XXX

Quil was modeling for me again. I admired his muscular form, slightly shorter and more bulky than Edward. His skin was more golden than ivory, and his black eyes were more teasing than sensuous, but...

When I got him to relax enough to stop twitching his fingers or shifting his shoulders, he would start jigging his knee. I managed to get a painting out of him, but it seemed slightly out of focus, without the linear quality of some of my Edward paintings, as if I had captured Quil's constantly vibrating essence.

I convinced him to knock off early and come with me to Thai BBQ. We slid into a booth in the back and ordered. I felt something like pain when I looked at the menu and recalled ordering the Pad Thai at this same place, seated at this same booth, with a different model, but I pushed it out of my mind.

I couldn't let Edward haunt me this way.

Quil watched me fiddle with my napkin. "You know, for someone who's always telling me to sit still, you sure are fidgety."

"Yeah, I'd make a lousy model," I released the mangled napkin, squaring it up and smoothing it flat.

"Sorry, I'm not such a great model, either. I can't seem to hold still," he apologized.

"No, it's fine. You know, if you're not comfortable holding a pose, I could photograph you and work from the pics." I spread my hands over the napkin, not looking up.

"Nude photos?" he asked. I shrugged and nodded.

He thought about it and then sighed. "I don't know if that would be a good idea …" he said doubtfully. "If the images got out it could be really embarrassing."

"Why would you be okay with nude paintings but not nude photos? Do you think I'd post them on the internet?"

"No, but um, well, a painting is different; it's art," he said.

"So a photograph isn't art? You'd better watch out, some of the photo students might pickle you in developer."

"It's not that," Quil said, frowning. "A photograph is more likely to be taken out of context, seen more as a document than a form of artistic expression."

I think my jaw dropped a little. Quil smiled shyly. "I've been hanging around Seth too much," he said.

I nodded. "Fine, but then you'll have to learn how to sit still."

He smiled coyly. "For you, I can work on it."

Our food arrived and we laid into it like two starving wolves.

"So," Quil said between bites of his noodles, "Seth seems cool, and my sister is crazy about him. He isn't a player, or a druggie, or something like that, is he? Am I going to have to play the big brother card and beat the crap out of him?" He had a smile on his face and was arching a brow, but I sensed that he was only half-joking.

"Seth? He's a sweetie. Rachel is safe as a kitten. Nothing to worry about," I tried to assure him. Quil seemed skeptical.

"Safe, huh? Is he ... gay?" he asked.

"What? No! Why would you think that?"

"He's an artist, right? Aren't all artists sex addicts or strung-out or gay?" he asked. I just stared, trying to figure out if he was pulling my leg, but he seemed completely earnest.

"Damn! Where did you get an idea like that?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Um, I saw Basquiat on TV the other night," he admitted. "Seemed like everyone was gay or abusing drugs or sleeping around."

"Oh, man," I said. "Not all artists are like that you know."

"Hm. I'll have to take your word for it."

"Do you think I'm like that?" I asked.

"No, but you're a girl."

I froze. "You're digging that grave really deep," I commented, and he seemed shocked.

"Uh, I mean, woman. Lady?"

"Artist."

"Sorry," he said. "I guess I still have a lot to learn."

"You're forgiven," I said with a wry grin.

He was funny, and even in my emotional wasteland I found myself smiling and relaxing. I had forgotten how it could be just comfortable to hang out with a guy. I had no expectations, no fears. Quil was just nice.

But he wasn't Edward.

After dinner I drove us back to campus. I pulled into the quiet parking lot and parked next to his car.

"Thanks for sitting for me," I said, twisting to face him in my dark truck cab.

"Hey, no problem. I want to get a painting out of it, something classy I can show off - _This was done by the world-famous Bella Swan when she was just a green young student. I saw her promise even then_," he said theatrically. It was so silly I threw back my head and laughed.

Even before my laughter had died, Quil reached a tentative hand out and was stroking my neck, gently, so gently. I stilled and bit my lip.

"You're so talented, Bella," he said softly. "When I look at your paintings I feel like I know you, like I understand you. I don't know why..."

And then he leaned forward and I thought he was going to kiss me. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest at the thought. Like a reaction to salt on an open wound, I flinched back suddenly and stuck my hand out between us.

"It's been really cool, Quil. I think you're really talented, too, let's do this again, it's been fun..." I was babbling, and when I realized it I stopped. "I'm sorry, Quil, I'm not ready for this." I closed my eyes.

He sighed, his warm breath touching my neck. "I get it. You're not interested."

"Oh. Oh, no! That's not it! I'm ... You just surprised me. You're really cool and I had a great time, but ... I just need some time," I said. Babbling again.

He nodded solemnly and climbed out of the Chevy with a bowed head. I watched long enough to assure myself he was safely in his car, and then I drove slowly into the night.

XXX

Saturday I stepped out the back door for my morning cig and found Alice gardening. I watched her pull out a flat of floppy purple flowers and begin plopping the little tiny depotted plants on the ground.

"What are those things?" I asked as she picked up a little spade. I settled into one of the patio chairs and watched her poke at the earth.

"These? Petunias."

"I thought petunias were supposed to be pink," I said, dubiously eyeing the purple flowers.

"No. They come in lots of colors. Don't you know anything about flowers, Bella?"

"I know almost nothing about green stuff. Except what I smoke." I held up my clove cigarette.

Alice shook her head and waved the spade teasingly. "I'll bet if a guy started sending you flowers you'd pay attention."

"Doubtless. Does Jasper send you flowers?"

"He gave me pink roses when we went out on our first real date," she said, and her eyes focused on something distant. She had a sweet smile on her face that bloomed into something blindingly bright when Jasper stepped out of the back door. "Hey, baby, we were just talking about you giving me flowers."

"Mmm," Jasper said, wrapping his arms around Alice and nuzzling her short hair. "With your pretty garden I didn't think you wanted flowers all the time. Should I be bringing home bouquets every week?"

"I wouldn't mind," Alice said coyly.

I ripped my gaze away and scowled at my cigarette.

After a few more minutes of sweet-talking, Jasper left Alice to her gardening and came to sit with me at the patio table.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said, "I just can't help being that way around Alice."

I didn't look at him. "You guys are lucky." I had a hard time speaking around the inexplicable lump in my throat.

"Yeah, I know. Alice is …" Jasper paused. "Well, I don't know why she loves me so much, but I'm glad she does."

I finally glanced over to Jasper and the goofy look on his face as he watched Alice digging in the dirt was really sickeningly sweet. And wonderful. I wanted a man to look at me like that.

"What about Tanya?" I asked in an undertone that Alice wouldn't overhear.

Jasper shot me a sharp look. "What about her?"

I tilted my head questioningly, jutting out my chin. "Didn't you love her? Would she have made you happy?"

Jasper looked at his hands and sighed, then lifted his hand to his lips and took a long drag off his cigarette. He exhaled before looking up at me again.

"I loved Tanya, but loving someone isn't always enough. I couldn't spend my life wishing things were different. I had to let go and move on. And in letting go I found the person I was meant to be with."

I didn't say anything. I felt that knot rising up again.

"How do you ..." I waved my cigarette in the air as if I could draw what I wanted to say. "How do you go on after giving someone your heart and having that person stomp on it, Jasper? How do you trust again?"

"It takes time, Bella. As for trusting, well, there are no guarantees in life. You can't hide yourself away and say you won't get hurt, you just have to let go. You don't get the flowers without the rain, right? Find happiness where you can."

I frowned. With Jasper's comments I felt something change, like seeing things first-hand instead of through a lens.

I wanted to be happy. I wanted what Jasper and Alice had. Someone whose eyes would light up when he looked at me. Someone who would sing love songs and bring me flowers. I wanted so badly for that person to be Edward. Since that was out of the question, would I always be afraid to get involved with someone for fear of another rejection? If I'd fallen in love with Edward without really intending to, how could I know where love might be hiding?

I stubbed out my cigarette and stood up. On the doorstep I turned back.

"Hey, Alice," I said casually, "you don't want to dig next to that Rose bush."

Alice paused in the act of digging a hole and looked perplexed. "Why not?"

I blew out smoke before answering her. "Because I buried a dead cat there."

"Any particular reason?" she asked and looked up, squinting.

"It needed doing," I said simply. Alice looked at me like I was nuts but neither of them said anything as I headed back into the house.

XXX

Sunday I called Quil.

"Hi, Bella. What's up?"

"I was just calling to see if you might like to get together again sometime," I said nervously. I had made up my mind that this was the right thing to do, but the rest of me felt nervous.

"Modeling? I don't know ..."

"No, not modeling. Just. You know. Coffee. Hanging out..." I muttered. Quil was quiet for several long moments.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah. I know I was giving off mixed signals Friday," I sighed. "I thought I was ready for something, but I'm not ... ready."

"Hey," he said finally, "You don't have to explain. I just like spending time with you, Bella. As a friend. It doesn't have to be anything more than that."

"Thanks, Quil. That's just what I needed to hear."

XXX

On Wednesday afternoon I loaded all the Edward paintings in my Chevy and took them over to AV Gallery, as Alec and I had agreed. Alec wasn't there, which made me a little nervous, a premonition that something was off. Though I had a detailed list of the paintings with prices, Alec's snotty assistant wanted each painting labeled with the title and price.

"But it's all on the list," I insisted, getting annoyed with her attitude.

"But," she said slowly, as if she were talking to a moron, "if I can't match up the list with the paintings it won't make any difference." She handed me a stack of post-its and a pen and I grumbled while I unpacked each painting from its bubble wrap and stuck its title and price on the back. It took me a little while, making sure each one was in the right place.

"Is there anything else you need?" I asked, anxious and fretful.

"Nope," Jane said sweetly. Sure, she could be sweet now that I'd done what she wanted. "You just get along and we'll see you at six on Saturday night."

"Oh. Okay," I said doubtfully as she bundled me out the door.

Back in my studio I looked around at the emptiness. All the paintings of Edward, with the exception of Bottom, were gone. I took down all the drawings, tucked them into my sketch book and tossed them into the bottom shelf of my cabinet.

It was time to move on. Maybe I would just paint fruit.

XXX

That night Quil and I went to Thai BBQ again, and sat in the same booth we had the week before.

"Here's to the soon-to-be-famous Bella Swan!" Quil toasted me with his Thai iced coffee. "How does it feel?"

I clinked my glass to his and gave him a tight smile. "It's a little unreal, actually. It's like this is happening to someone else."

"Well, it's your name on the card, right? So unless there's another Bella Swan running around…"

"My evil twin? That would explain so much about my life," I laughed.

"You have an evil twin? So if you're the good one, which one is more fun?" Quil teased with a raised eyebrow.

I felt light, free, flirty. I giggled and bit my lip. "I guess you'll just have to find out."

He smiled and laughed.

After dinner we walked back to my house and joined Alice and Jasper in the backyard for some beer in the unseasonably warm evening. Twice Quil brushed his hand across mine, and finally let his arm rest across my shoulders as we talked and laughed. I hesitated, my shoulders tensing at the unexpected contact.

_Nothing to fear_, I told myself, and tentatively leaned my head into his shoulder. It felt as though I'd been holding my breath for almost two weeks, and now I could finally breathe. Alice took in the gesture, and then smiled at me, and I smiled back. It was … nice.

XXX

**Sorry for the long a/n. I have a few announcements.**

**After being asked about it many, many times I have started a twitter account. If you are interested in following me on twitter, I can be found farkle_. I know, I have gone over to the dark and chatty side.**

**ASC has been nominated for a Twilight All Human Award in the category of Stories You Couldn't Stop Reading. The site for voting is twilightallhumanawards (dot) webs (dot) com. There are some amazing stories nominated, check it out and vote for your favorites. A big hug to whoever nominated ASC, thank you!**

**Thank you to Ninapolitan for rec'ing ASC on the Twigasm podcast. To new readers who have found ASC through Twigasm: Welcome!**

**I've signed up to participate in The Fandom Gives Back, offering a BPOV or EPOV outtake of ASC, winner's choice of scene (for those of you who have been asking for more EPOV, this is your chance…). All the proceeds of the auction go to support Alex's Lemonade Stand, benefiting children with cancer. Go to www (dot) thefandomgivesback (dot) com to see the amazing offerings up for sale and auction.**

**Thank you to my wonder betas, MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly, for everything. Thank you to PrincessBella24 for prereading. Thank you to all my fandom friends for listening to me ramble and giving me wonderful feedback. Thank you to all my readers, those who have read from the beginning, those who are just tuning in, and everyone in between for supporting this story. I am grateful to you all.**

**I read and respond to every review, and am always interested in what readers have to say. I appreciate all your input!**


	21. 21 Bacon

**SM owns Twilight. This story is mine. I lived it; I keep it.**

**Francis Bacon was most famous for painting Valasquez's Pope and a two slabs of beef together, in Figure with Meat. It's a powerful painting.**

**XXX**

Renee and I arrived at the gallery early. A few people were drifting through, looking at paintings while holding cups of wine. Everyone was dressed pretty conservatively for L.A.: slacks, loafers, and crisp white shirts predominated, but there were a few expensively bohemian outfits, too. I was glad Mom had taken me shopping earlier in the day at Fred Segal. I would have felt underdressed had I worn my Wal-Mart sundress.

She had been on air from the moment I greeted her at the bi-level madhouse of LAX airport Friday evening. She couldn't have been more excited if it had been her own opening.

The good side was she was so excited and nervous there was nothing left for me to do. Except for smoking an entire pack of cloves in one day, nearly twice my usual, I felt I was handling my nervousness pretty well.

I scanned the gallery, my eyes sweeping along the right-hand wall where my paintings were lined up and dramatically lit. It was unreal to see the paintings I had slaved over presented like precious objects, seeming to glow. They looked fantastic. In every one Edward's beautiful face and body were on display.

My mother went straight to the first painting, _Edward Two_, from the postcard, and I watched as she tilted her head in the contemplative stance I recognized so well. She did that every time we went to a museum when something interested her.

"What do you think, Mom?" I asked. I dearly wanted her to approve of my work, but I was worried.

"Oh, Bella," she said, turning to me with bright eyes, "It's fantastic. It's so honest and real and full of emotion!" She gestured with her hand, tracing the curve of Edward's body in the air. "His expression: he seems to look right into me!" She studied it a moment longer and frowned. "But, Bella, you seem to be idealizing your model. He's just too pretty."

I turned away, looking around the gallery at the other paintings. "I wasn't idealizing, Mom," I muttered.

The other paintings, by two other artists, were also figurative and nearly all nudes. Then I realized they all used male subjects. There weren't many patrons yet, but I abruptly realized the few there were mostly men.

Alec swept up to greet me wearing a shiny suit and equally shiny smile. The gallery looked freakishly gorgeous. As he leaned in to grip my shoulders in a faux hug and kiss he announced much louder than was necessary for me standing right in front of him, "Bella, my dear! You look stunning! And you brought your sister!"

"This is my mother, Renee," I said. I was used to the mistake: Renee and I looked so much alike. Except for my brown hair and eyes we could almost pass for twins. Mom was only nineteen years old when I was born, and looked younger than she was, so it wasn't false flattery when someone took us for sisters.

"I don't believe it," Alec said with a teasing grin. "You can't be old enough to have a grown daughter."

"I was a child bride," Mom told him with a flirty wink.

Alec laughed, kissed Mom's cheek and held her hands while he told her how she should be so proud having such a talented daughter. Then he dashed off to greet a pair of young men.

"Now that's a salesman," Renee said in my ear as we watched Alec accost the new arrivals.

"Is that a good thing?"

"A very good thing, I'd say," Renee commented. "Look at all the red dots."

I looked at the numbers tacked to the wall by each painting, and noticed that a handful already sported a red dot, the gallery world sign of a sold piece. Even _Edward Two_, the one that wasn't for sale, had a little red sticker by its number. I figured that was Alec's way of deflecting questions about it.

Mom had already grabbed a price list from the front desk and was scanning it while I got us two glasses of wine from where Jane was pouring. I handed her a cup and sipped at my own, grateful she had suggested an early dinner. My stomach was fluttering like I might throw up.

Then Alec was dragging me away from my mother and introducing me to a man with silver hair in a salmon-colored polo shirt. I shook his hand nervously, hoping I wasn't sweating.

"Your paintings are so lovely, so … sensuous," the man said, his tongue rolling the words around in his mouth like he was tasting them.

"Thank you," I said, unsure what more I was supposed to say. Salmon-shirt and Alec had that look like I was expected to say something interesting. I felt like I'd just been pushed on stage with no idea of my lines.

"Yes, Bella's work is all about sensuality and making plain things magical. Isn't that right, Bella?" Alec prompted. Salmon-shirt looked at me inquiringly, obviously waiting for me to expand on this statement.

"Yeah, that's right," I said, and quickly took a sip of my wine.

Alec made a face at me out of Salmon-shirt's sight. I raised my eyebrows in question. Alec rolled his hand in a gesture that was clearly a signal: _go on_…

"Yes, it's about finding the sublime beauty of the human body." I babbled, drifting over to the nearest painting and gesturing to it as I spoke. I felt like a complete idiot, but Alec nodded approvingly as I spoke and Salmon-shirt seemed to like it, so I vomited up every scrap of art history and theory that I could link to my paintings, no matter how tenuous the relationship.

I told him all sorts of things, about Edward and about me and how the little things combined to produce something different, like the map bits symbolically showing the path of Edward's journey. I talked about post-modern ideas of fragmentation and appropriation. I talked about stuff I had no idea I knew and probably never thought had anything to do with my paintings. Salmon-shirt ate it up. It was a little freaky.

The next thing I knew, Alec was handing Salmon-shirt off to Jane to discuss payment for the painting we'd been discussing.

"Excellent, Bella," Alec said as he steered me to the next collector. The next hour or so passed in a blur of faces and names and convoluted art-speak. Alec would leave me for a moment or two with each collector, then sweep back in with a fresh cup of wine for me and close a sale. It was impressive.

I chatted up Alistair Reed, the art critic who had been promised to show. He smiled and patted me on the shoulder before he headed off to the back saying he'd need to get some images from Jane. I had mere moments to greet Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie when they arrived, quickly introducing them to my mom, who was hovering nearby, never a distraction but always a calming presence. Then Alec was hauling me away again to introduce me to another collector, Marcus something-or-other, a serious looking man with long black hair who told me how he loved the passion in my paintings.

"So…" Alec said leadingly, "Bella always uses the same model, Edward, in all her paintings."

"Uh, just for this work, actually," I interrupted. "I have a new model now: Quil."

"Oh, that's too bad," Marcus said. "This Edward fellow is quite wonderful; it's obvious you have a real rapport with him."

"Yes, well, I thought I did. He's traveling now." I covered up my unease with another sip of wine. I was beginning to feel light-headed.

"Bella, why don't you tell Marcus about the imagery in the paintings, like the wings, the found objects, you know…"

I reeled off the patter I'd been honing all evening and Marcus listened with quiet interest. When I began to wind down, however, he broke in.

"You talk about finding the magic and passion in your model, but I would think that you should be finding the passion in yourself."

I gaped, startled by this forward statement. Marcus smiled kindly.

"You're a fantastic painter, but I think you aren't even aware of what you're making, what you're seeing. There's so much of you in these paintings, perhaps it's because of the feelings you have for your model. You're in love with him?"

I shuddered. There was something about this man that made me want to open up and tell him the truth. Maybe it was in combination with Edward's image everywhere I looked. "Yes. I love him."

"Hm. Yes, I can see love more easily than all that the bullshit about the sublime," he smiled as I stared, stunned at his blunt assessment of my pompous statement. "Don't be surprised, Bella. I may make my living off sex, but I know passion when I see it. Passion is what drives the industry."

"What industry is that?" I asked.

Marcus gave me a look that made me feel very young and naïve. "Adult films. I spend a lot of time finding men who have the right chemistry, and don't just look good and perform well." He turned back to the paintings. I abruptly felt exhausted.

"I really love the one on the postcard, _Edward Two_," he said, changing the subject, "but Alec told me he sold it earlier this evening, so I guess I have to choose something else, don't I?"

"He told you it was sold?" I asked. "It's not sold; it's not for sale."

"Oh? That's too bad. It's really … powerful."

"Uh-huh," I responded inarticulately, a strange suspicion seeping down through my gut. I nearly gagged on my wine as Jane touched my arm, surprising me.

"Bella, Alec has a question for you. Marcus, have you decided which painting you want?" she asked sweetly.

"Yes, I think I'll take these two," he told Jane, pointing out his choices. I thanked him profusely and excused myself to find Alec. Of course, he wanted me to meet someone else, but while the buyer gazed at one of my paintings with his finger to his lips, I whispered in Alec's ear.

"Did you sell the postcard painting?" I asked.

"Yes! Isn't it great? A new client…"

"What?" I hissed, cutting him off. "That's the one I told you wasn't for sale!"

Alec looked down at me, clearly confused. "But when you dropped it off, the note on it said it was for sale. It gave the price and everything. I thought you'd changed your mind."

"No! I didn't change my mind! How could you…?" I couldn't say any more. I was angry, but my eyes were prickling like I might cry. "It's supposed to go to someone. I promised it… You have to tell them it's not for sale. Sell them something else and give them a discount, but …"

"Alec, I think I'll buy this one, _Edward Four_," a fluffy-haired man said, interrupting our whispered conversation. Alec smiled broadly and stepped away from me, muttering that we'd talk about it later.

I drained my wine and went in search of more.

I couldn't believe Alec had sold the one painting I specifically told him not to. I was too tired to feel really enraged, but I could feel anger bubbling below the surface. I wanted to get out. I left my empty cup on Jane's desk and scanned the crowd for my mom. Instead, I found Jessica.

"Oh, goodness!" I sighed. "I can't believe you came!" She gave me a hug and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

"I couldn't miss it," she said.

When I opened my eyes I spotted Seth staring at me with his mouth hanging open.

"Seth!" I said, and reached out to drag him into the hug. He was wooden. I looked up at his face to find him glaring at Jessica.

"Um, hi, Jess. Excuse us a minute, would you?" Seth managed to say. Jessica gave Seth a wary look as he pulled me away.

"Did someone slip you a Roofie?" he asked, putting his hand to my forehead.

I slapped his hand away. "Nothing like that, I just… Jessica and I have buried our differences."

"Really? I thought the only way for the two of you to bury your differences would be in a deep grave. In a lead-lined casket. Maybe with a stake through its heart."

"I know, Seth, but Jessica and I have found some common ground." I shrugged. "We've buried the hatchet."

"And not in her head? Huh." Seth cocked his head and studied me. "You sure you're feeling all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Well, except for finding out there's been a fuck-up with the paintings." I glanced around and saw Alec talking to Jane. Though they were much too far away for me to hear, and Alec's posture suggested a casual conversation, Jane seemed tense. I hoped he was chewing her out. I turned back to Seth. "Otherwise, I'm good. Why?"

"Alright then, no worries," Seth said with a raised eyebrow. I could read the skepticism on his face as clearly. I knew him so well.

I was rescued from further comments by the arrival of Quil. He came up with a huge smile for me and a bouquet of flowers, all but dragging me away from Seth to pull me into a warm hug. I turned into him, enjoying the attention and distraction.

"Here, Bella," he said, putting the flowers into my arms, "these are for you." I lowered my face into the bundle of stalks and then looked up at him.

"Asparagus?" I asked, laughing. He rolled his eyes at me.

"Gladiolus," he said. I bit my lip, embarrassed.

"Oh. Thank you." I stretched up to kiss him. I was aiming for his cheek, but he turned his head and it wound up being a kiss full on the lips. It was a nice kiss, but … nothing more. There was no amount of hoping that would make it more. Quil's lips were soft, and undemanding, but there was no electricity, no charge that ran from my groin to my toes. It was just … nice.

And it was at the moment that I realized kissing Quil was as unexciting as kissing my pillow that I heard Emmett's voice booming loudly enough for him to be heard in Nevada, "Hey, there's Edward."

There are moments where you expect time to stop. For everything to be in slow-motion. But that's not what happened. My brain actually completely froze, though my body continued to function.

Unwillingly I turned my head and like a magnet to metal my eyes immediately found Edward. He was standing halfway to the front of the gallery, talking to Marcus. He looked thinner, and his hair was shaggy, flopping down over his eyes, but otherwise he looked the same. Long, lean body in his black Circus Liquor t-shirt, jeans, and boots. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed that I just missed him watching me.

I turned back to Quil, who still was bent down to me. Gently I moved back, clutching the flowers.

"I… uh," I stammered, but that was as far as I got before Alec was there, insisting he had someone I needed to talk to, and I was hauled away.

"Bella, you're such a natural at this. Everything is going great!" Alec murmured in my ear. I didn't feel like it was going so great. I felt like a rag doll being dragged around.

"Have you told the buyer about the mix-up?" I asked. "Given him his money back?"

"I can't do that, sweetie. Why don't you just give your friend another painting? Or paint another one for him? I'm sure he won't be fussed."

"I can't do that! How did this even happen?"

"Jane said the post-it must have fallen off, but a couple of the paintings had no sticker and she was working off the invoice. Double-check your invoice: they all have a price. Here we are. This is Geoffrey…" he said, his voice changing to become warmer as he maneuvered me to where another collector waited, studying paint Edward, asleep on my sofa wearing only a pair of jeans. I swallowed and steeled myself for another round of art bullshit roulette.

After a few comments about the languorous nature of the model in repose, and agreeing with Geoffrey's assessment of the painting as "erotic," I left him with Alec and went in search of Edward.

I knew I had to find him, though I had no idea what I would say once I did.

I couldn't find him. I had to make small talk with a few more people as I circled the now crowded gallery, and finally found Emmett and asked if he'd seen him. He scanned the crowd, his height helping to see over heads, and then shook his head.

"The last I saw he was talking to Jessica, but he's not with her now," he said. "Check outside."

I managed to work my way to out the door and found a cluster of people outside. Edward was standing a little apart, smoking a cigarette and looking at a small white business card in his hand.

Now that I'd found him I stopped, just watching him. I had the strangest notion that if I approached him he would disappear like smoke.

But then he looked up, those intense eyes burning into me. A slow smile curled his lips. I felt an unwilling smile stretch my mouth into a grimace.

"Bella," he said softly.

"You came," I breathed. "How did you even know…?"

"You gave me the name of the gallery when you called," he said. "And I bribed the rest of the information out of Emmett."

"If the bribe was restocking his liquor cabinet after your bender, I'm sure he was happy."

Edward gave me a sharp look. "He told you about that?"

"Yeah, Emmett told me all about you showing up with a shiner and going on a three-day do-it-yourself alcohol binge. I even saw the evidence in his trash. Are you going to tell me who punched you?"

"I fell?" he said, unconvincingly. I quirked an eyebrow and he smiled.

"I, ah, got into a disagreement in a drinking establishment," he admitted.

"A bar fight? What did you do? Hit on a biker's bitch?"

"Mmm. Something like that." He rubbed his ear self-consciously with the hand holding the business card. He looked… embarrassed.

"What do you have there?" I asked. He looked down at the card and his forehead creased. He slipped it in his pocket.

"Some guy in there gave it to me and told me to give him a call if I needed work. He said I was obviously talented and had amazing attributes." Edward sounded unimpressed.

I stifled a giggle, remembering who I saw Edward talking to earlier. "Marcus? Old dude with long black hair? I get the impression he's in the film industry."

"That's what he said. I don't know what he's thinking. I can't act. In the fifth grade pageant I was cast as a rock."

I smiled bitterly at the thought of Edward as a rock. His heart was stone, it wouldn't be a stretch for the rest of him.

"Just a guess, but I don't think his films involve a whole lot of acting."

Edward gazed at me, obviously thinking about my words, before he shook his head and chuckled. "I don't think I can do that with a girl I don't even know."

"That's okay, because I'm pretty sure he doesn't have any women in his films." I laughed as Edward's eyebrows crawled up toward his hairline. I could picture him doing a lot of things, but gay porno…

"Oh! I definitely can't act that well. Guess it's a good thing I already have a job," he commented, then turned away and took a long drag.

"Yeah?" I said. "Doing what?"

"I got some work doing odd jobs on a ranch. Vaccinating cattle, repairing a tractor, painting a barn, that sort of thing."

I looked inside at Alec schmoozing the patrons and remembered I had some bad news to impart.

"I have something to tell you… … I'm really sorry, but the painting I promised you …"

"What about it?" he asked calmly. The playful camaraderie of a moment earlier had evaporated, and I felt a chill coming off of him like a tangible thing.

"It got sold," I said, wincing.

He nodded and looked down. "That's okay. I told you to sell it."

"But I owe it to you," I said.

"You don't owe me anything, Bella." His deep voice was calm and distant.

I took a step closer to him, but he still didn't look at me.

"Do you not want it?" I asked, my voice feeling small. Edward looked up sharply.

"Of course I want it."

"I'll try to get Alec to sell the buyer something else, or give the money back. I'll get it to you."

"No, Bella. You deserve the money. It's a great painting, but you don't have to give up a sale for me."

"I'll paint you another. Then we'll be even."

He huffed, seeming annoyed. "Don't do that. You don't owe me, after…everything. What am I going to do with a painting, anyway? Strap it on the back of the bike?"

"I – I don't know."

"Besides, I don't really want a painting of your new model," he said, and I thought I detected anger in his tone.

"My new model?" I asked, thinking first of the donkey-headed painting. I couldn't give him that one, obviously.

He hooked a thumb in the direction of the gallery. "Porn dude told me you have a new model. Is it that kid we shot pool with? Seth's friend?"

Oh. "Quil? Yeah, he's sat for me a couple of times now."

Edward examined his dwindling cigarette intently and I could see the muscles of his jaw flex.

"Nice flowers," he said. I looked down at the long stalks in my arms and felt that simmering tired.

"Quil's just a friend," I said. Edward's face was a harsh mask.

"Yeah, I was a _friend_, too."

_Was. _

I thought my heart had already been so mangled that I was beyond feeling but I was wrong. Anger bubbled up my throat. It was both the use of the past-tense to describe our friendship and the blatant insinuation that I was fucking Quil that put me in a state somewhere between a screaming rage and hysterical tears.

"How fucking dare you!" I seethed, my voice barely above a whisper. Edward's eyes met mine. I was shaking. "What I do is none of your fucking business, you asshole. I'm not some whore who sleeps with all her models! I gave you my fucking heart and you threw it back in my face like it was nothing."

"Bella," Edward said, "I didn't mean it like that."

"Bullshit. You meant it. Know what? You're right. I don't owe you a fucking thing."

I spun to go back into the gallery, but Edward caught my arm. I tried to throw his hand off, but he wouldn't let go. He moved close to me, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry." I trembled at his soft words and his hand hard around my arm. I was intensely conscious of his body touching mine. "I'm sorry I'm a selfish bastard and I'm sorry I couldn't be a better man. I don't think you're a whore and I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life. That's not what I want."

I closed my eyes and attempted to tame my emotions. I wanted him. I wanted his love. Nothing was going to change that. But my heart wasn't a yo-yo for him to dangle on a string.

"What _do_ you want, Edward? I gave you everything I have to give," I sighed.

He released me silently. Although he retreated, I was frozen in place. I turned to stare as he raked his fingers through his shaggy hair, sweeping it out of his eyes. I was torn between wanting to reach out and touch him, kiss him, strip him naked right on the street, and the itching desire to break his beautiful nose for him. I was sorry he hadn't gotten it broken in his bar fight.

"I just want…" he said slowly and then stopped, staring through the glass window into the gallery. The desire to break his nose intensified.

"Right." I stalked back into the gallery, and was accosted by Alec the minute I stepped in the door

"Bella!" Alec sang as he steered me to meet yet another buyer. "Don't go ducking out on me to play kissy-face. I need you in here!"

"Got it," I said, and pasted a fake smile on my face.

XXX

The next morning Mom and I put our suitcases in the open bed of my Chevy, got on the Santa Monica Freeway, and headed east.

"I'm so glad to have you this week, Bella," she said as we passed downtown. "It's been too long since I had you all to myself."

"You make it sound like I never visit," I groused.

"When in the last four years have you come to Phoenix for longer than a weekend?" she asked, and I could hear the hurt in her voice.

"Um…" I said and she nodded.

"Exactly. I understand why you stayed away at first, but your friends miss you. June's mother asked me about you last month." I didn't say anything. Mom understood everything and nothing.

We were approaching Redlands when Mom switched from KNX's repeating news and traffic to an oldies station. She sang along with the song on the radio.

"… _And the eagle flies with the dove… And if you can't be with the one you love, honey… love the one you're with_."

"Ugh! Mom, why do you listen to this old stuff?"

"Be nice, Bella. This is the music of a generation."

I snorted. "Not your generation, mom. You were a baby when this stuff was around."

"Smart-ass," she said, and pulled her iPod out of her purse, plugging it into my stereo. The Smiths filled the cab. Mom might listen to hippie music now and again, but she was a child of the eighties.

"Your show was great, Bella. I'm so proud of you. When we left last night there were only five paintings left unsold." I mm-hmmed in agreement. "And your friends were so nice. Emmett's a riot, and I really enjoyed chatting with your boyfriend, too. He's quite charming."

"Quil is pretty smooth, but he's not my boyfriend," I said.

"No, I knew that. I was referring to Edward." Oblivious to my sudden tension she rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a folded postcard from the show. "He asked me to give you this, and said he was sorry he couldn't stick around longer."

She stuck the postcard in the cup holder. I could see a web address scrawled on it and below that a short sentence.

_I want a self-portrait._

XXX

**Twitter: farkle_. **

**I've signed up to participate in The Fandom Gives Back, offering a BPOV or EPOV outtake of ASC, winner's choice of scene (for those of you who have been asking for more EPOV, this is your chance…). Go to www (dot) thefandomgivesback (dot) com to see the amazing offerings up for sale and auction. **

**Azucena210 is heading up Team Farkle, bidding on an exclusive EPOV for FGB. Go to teamfarkle (dot) blogspot (dot) com for more information.**

**Thank you to my wonder betas, MrsDazzled and Irritable Grizzzly, for everything. Thank you to PrincessBella24 for prereading. Thank you to all my fandom friends for listening to me ramble and giving me wonderful feedback. Thank you to all my readers, I am grateful to you all.**

**I read and respond to every review, and am always interested in what readers have to say. I appreciate all your input!**


	22. 22 Close

**SM owns Twilight, this story is mine. I lived it, I keep it.**

**PLEASE READ: this chapter is BPOV, but it contains excerpts of Edward's blog, which are in italics. **

**For those of you who were concerned I had given up on ASC, never fear, I am too obsessed to give up on this story, but since the last update I spent a week on vacation and nearly three weeks sick with multiple infections and utterly unable to function, let alone write. Thank you to everyone for your healing thoughts and wishes. **

**Chuck Close is the photo-realist painter who inspired this chapter. His early work is not only remarkable for the level of detail in the portraits (and many self-portraits) but also for the scale. The ones I have seen in person are 8 feet by 8 feet and incredibly detailed. Very confrontational.**

XXX

**ASC 22**

**Close**

I left the postcard in the truck after getting to Mom's house in Phoenix. I didn't want to think about what Edward had written or what that web address might be. It wasn't an email, so I figured he wasn't inviting me to contact him.

Monday I moped. Mom had the day off work. After we'd slept in and talked about her succulent garden, she amused herself by making lunch for us. I was silent for the first few bites of roasted chicken wraps, but something had been bothering me.

"Mom, why did you raise me? I mean, why did you even have me? You could have been a painter and gone to New York instead of staying here in Phoenix."

Renee set down her sandwich and looked out the window at her garden - the succulents she lovingly cared for. I thought she might not answer, but she finally turned to me and sighed.

"I had everything I ever wanted in you, Bella."

"But Dad said you could have been -" I began, but she interrupted.

"Your father thought I should have stayed in school and finished my degree and he's right, but …" she sighed. "I was young and stupid and idealistic when Charlie and I got married. I didn't plan on getting pregnant so young, but I've never regretted having you."

"But you could have made a career as an artist. You could have had your paintings in museums!"

"Maybe. Bella, I like teaching art, and I like my life. It might not be enough for you, but it's enough for me. All I've ever wanted was to be happy and for you to be happy."

"Being a successful artist would have made you happy."

Renee shrugged. "I don't know about that. Do you remember the Nutcracker pageant?"

I blinked in confusion at the non-sequitur. "Yeah, I remember." I had a small part in the Nutcracker pageant when I was in my "I want to be a ballerina" phase in grade school.

"You were terrible when you started taking ballet classes, but you worked so hard, practicing every day. You wanted a part in the Nutcracker Pageant so badly, because June had done it. You practiced, you listened to June, and you pestered the teacher constantly. And you did it. You got a part in the Nutcracker Pageant."

Mom just smiled, lost in the memory. I recalled how excited I'd been to have that part - to wear the mouse costume, to run out and do my little mouse dance, and to see the half-lit faces in the audience… Mom touched my arm, pulling me back to the present.

"Bella, I don't have your drive, your passion for art. I never really did. I didn't like selling my paintings. You have that passion, I saw it at the opening. I know you can do whatever you set your mind to do, and if being famous is what you want you'll do it. All I want for you is that you're happy."

XXX

On Tuesday I visited Bree. She was on break from the University of Flagstaff, and had brought her new boyfriend down to meet her family. Diego hung around for a little while, smiling politely before he excused himself to check his email.

After we caught up on events – my show and the prize at the student exhibit, and Bree's 4.0 in the sociology program and relationship – Bree and I lapsed into silence for a bit.

I remembered why Bree and I hadn't talked much since I left Phoenix. We two were all that was left of the group of four friends. June and Ashley were gone in the accident. I wasn't the same party girl I'd been back then.

"Do you think about them?" I asked quietly.

She nodded. "If I hadn't been sick with mono, I'd have been in the car," she said, her voice small.

"And you probably would have died, too."

We were quiet for a long time after that.

"It was tough, with you leaving Phoenix. It was almost like I'd lost all three of you."

"I had to leave," I said sadly, picking at the frayed edge of my cut-offs.

"I get that," Bree said. "I just missed having you here. June and Ashley were gone, and as soon as you got out of the hospital, you up and headed off to California without even saying goodbye. It was like you died in the wreck, too, but we didn't have a funeral."

I sighed. I didn't know how to explain how desperate I'd been to escape from Phoenix, where everything reminded me of my friends, how badly I had wanted a new life, a new start. I'd needed to be a new person, and leave all the baggage of my old life behind.

XXX

When I got back in the truck, the card with the scrawled web address mocked me. I took it into my room when I got home and carefully entered the address in my web browser. The page that loaded was a blog titled "La Poderosa". It was plain, lacking any kind of theme or fancy graphics. The most recent entry had no title, just the date. The Sunday mom and I drove to Phoenix: the day after the gallery opening and the most recent time I'd seen Edward.

_April 5, Sunday_

_Emmett has sometimes complained that I think too much; that I spend more time in my head than in the real world. "What are you doing in that melon-head of yours?" he'd gripe. What I'm doing is imagining what might happen: planning, plotting how every situation would resolve itself. Plotting everything out like a story. _

_Sometimes this has worked well for me, but lately nothing has gone the way I planned. I had a concept of how my parting with Bella would go, and that was a complete failure. I learned that I have no idea what goes on behind that gruff attitude of hers. She's more and less than I thought, and the goodbye was painful, for me at least._

_Then I tried to put her out of my mind, and when that didn't work, I went back to L.A. with the thought that I would talk to her and this would all be resolved. I had an idea of what I would say, but when I saw her the fantasy evaporated like fog, and the stark reality was very different from my imagining._

_I gave her the address of this blog. She's the only person I've given it to. I have no idea if she'll read it. Most likely she'll burn the address and flip me the big internet bird. I considered editing my earlier entries, in case she does read, but I don't want to lie any longer, so I decided to leave everything as it was written._

_It's time to start being honest. I couldn't do it verbally, looking into those direct eyes of hers, but maybe I can do it here, with words typed into the void. She's the best friend I've ever had, and she doesn't deserve my idiocy. _

_Bella, I hope you're reading. You've shown me yourself, the good and the bad, the magical and the mundane. It's time for me to return the favor._

I sat back. The entry was frankly confusing. What had he wanted to say at my opening? I didn't dare hope that he wanted to tell me he loved me.

I left my laptop and went out the sliding door to the backyard. In the warm dark, I smoked and stared up at the faintly winking stars.

Then my curiosity got the better of me and soon I was going back to the first blog entry, dated during our last week together, just days before we went to Vegas, and read each one in chronological order. I felt like I was sneaking through his house and rummaging through his underwear drawer, looking for something valuable. Looking for clues to my own emotional death.

XXX

_March 11, Wednesday_

_All my obligations are fulfilled. Nothing holds me down, and nothing holds me back. It is me, La Poderosa, and the open highway. The shackles of Tanya are thrown off. My only responsibility is to the adventure._

_March 12, Thursday_

_I'm starting this blog to get in the habit of writing. It was suggested to me by a friend - Bella - that I start writing one, just for myself, just to be writing. I'll try it and see._

_I decided to take this journey as a way to find out about other people, and it's been amazing who I've met, beginning with Bella. She stomped into my life like a little thunderstorm. She's creative, passionate, forceful, and amazing. She has innocent eyes like a child, curses like a trucker, and smokes her cigarettes like they've done her wrong. She's shaken my ideas of art and women. Yet, as much as I have learned about her, she has taught me so much more about myself._

_She has shown me how freeing it can be to make love with someone without being in love with that person - that we can be physically joined and remain friends. I don't have to be emotionally tangled. With her it's all easy._

_Not like Tanya, who _needed_ in every sense of the word. She constantly required professions of love, given and received, and after every encounter I felt like I had to get away. I'd been trapped by all those words._

_Bella requires no words. She gives passion, and requires nothing in return. And after we are both spent, we go back to being friends. She smiles, and it's like sunshine after the storm. I want to immortalize her in words. There are no literary women like her - she is too real for fiction. Perhaps Shakespeare could have captured Bella. She might be Lady Macbeth, focused on her prize. She's a femme fatale with paint under her fingernails._

_Bella has shown me how love is a lie, a trap. She lives outside love, in pure passion. I strive to reach that perfect plane of existence where I too can live outside love._

_March 15, Sunday_

_It's 3 AM. At the moment I'm writing in a hotel room in Las Vegas while my Lady Macbeth sleeps in the king-sized bed. I've been watching her sleep while I sit, writing and thinking. Today has been a crazy day, from the moment I woke up in the bed of this beautiful girl to now, when we've traveled to another state, and seen our friends get married. I could go to her, my friend, who lies naked in that huge bed, but then again, I can't._

_This evening I was torn. Jasper married a girl who I can see he loves with his whole heart. More than even the object of our shared attentions, he loves Alice. Passionately, soulfully, entirely. I watched Jasper marry Alice. I listened to the vows and I felt guilty. I can see that for them, love isn't a four-letter-word. For them it's freeing._

_That's what Tanya wanted for me, for us. Freedom. To me it looked like prison. A beautiful, gentle, cloying prison. _

_Yet I ran off, and here I am in a hotel room with a girl who is not Tanya. Bella is beautiful, smart, and paints the most beautiful, angelic figures, but she is rough, foul-mouthed, and angry with the whole world. She is a contradiction in terms. _

_I shouldn't be here._

_For so long I thought Tanya was the love of my life. That seems so naïve now. It should have been Tanya, after all she did for me, all I put her through, but I can't marry her. I knew that even a year ago. But I wasn't prepared to feel such guilt tonight. _

_This is what I've been running from. All Tanya ever asked for was my love, and I wasn't able to give it more than lip service. I don't think I can give it to anyone. I said the words to Tanya enough times that I believed them, but it was garbage. I've never been really honest with her. She still thinks I'm coming back to her someday. That will have to be set right. I need to tell her I don't love her, and that it's been wrong of me to string her along. I suspect she knows, but maybe not. Tanya tried to trap me with her love, but I've escaped. The veil is gone from my eyes._

_I'm fortunate, then, that my friend, the one who lays waiting for me naked in this oversized Las Vegas bed, isn't a romantic. She will never try to hold me down with words of love. On Monday I'll leave and perhaps never see her again, and there will be no tears or recriminations like I had with Tanya. I'll never forget my friend's passion and creativity. She's already inspired me to write again._

_I've been working on a story about an artist who paints angels. One night his painted angel comes to life and talks to him. Pygmalion, with something darker underneath. It's a bit strange, not like what I've ever written before, but it's what came out of me. It's nearly done and maybe I'll send it to Professor Masen, my mentor back at Berkeley, and see what he thinks._

_I don't know that I'll ever share this blog, but it's nice to write this out. It's been a long day. I'll join my naked friend now. _

XXX

Wednesday I was sitting on the patio, cigarette dangling from my left hand while I drew Mom's cactus garden. I wasn't sure how I would use the sketches, but somehow I wanted those images. Mom came out with a couple of glasses of iced tea for us.

"I'm heading back to L.A. tomorrow," I said as she handed me my tea.

"You're welcome," she said, sitting on the other chaise.

"Sorry," I muttered, "thank you." I went back to drawing, and after a few minutes of drawing the spines on a round cactus and listening to Mom slosh her ice cubes around in her tea, she spoke again.

"I figured you'd be heading back sooner, actually," she said.

I shrugged, and moved onto the Mother-in-Laws Tongue plant in a big blue pot at the edge of a patio. I liked the spiky fright-wig quality of it.

"I told Alice I'd be back to help with her Passover Seder Friday, and I have a paper I should be writing, but it's been nice to be here."

"It's been nice to have you here," she said, and then we were quiet.

XXX

_March 16, Monday_

_Monday, and I haven't left L.A. _

_She said she loves me. _

_I didn't expect this, I didn't want this, and even though she's not here, I can't see anything but her face, staring at me with hard eyes. I didn't want to hurt her. I thought she'd be the one to hurt me. _

_I can't let go._

_My eye socket hurts where the guy at that biker bar slugged me. (I may have deserved it, since I did stick my hand up his girlfriend's shirt and call her Bella) My stomach hurts, but that may be because I haven't had anything in over twenty-four hours that wasn't alcoholic. Emmett let me crash on Jasper's bed, and here I lay thinking about Bella. I keep drinking, but she's still here. What is wrong with me?_

_March 18, Wednesday_

_I woke up today with a raging headache and a growling stomach and my phone was ringing. I didn't answer it. When I checked the voicemail it was from Bella, wanting to know if she could sell the painting she gave to me, the first painting she did of me in her studio. There was more to the message, but that was all I got. _

_I'm such an asshole. She needs the money from her paintings, she needs this show, and what would I do with the painting anyway? I guess I could put it in storage, maybe Emmett would hold onto it for me, or I could give it to my parents, but seriously._

_Besides, if I drink myself to death it won't matter._

_I messaged her to go ahead and sell it. After all the awful things I said to her, she deserves more than the painting anyway. If that's the least I can do to make it up to her for being an emotional idiot, then I'll give it up gladly. _

_I have to get out of L.A._

XXX

Thursday morning, before I left, I wandered around the house, looking at my mother's paintings. She still had her easel set up in the sunroom, and I'd looked at the half-finished painting there with some interest. Mom always favored abstracts with bright and sometimes even harsh colors, everything vivid as the Phoenix sunlight.

I remembered how when I was about eight I'd asked Mom why we didn't live with Daddy, and she'd responded that she and my father didn't want the same things out of life. She needed to be free of Auburn, get out of the constraints of a small-town mentality, and get out of the mountains. She wanted sun and heat and the beauty of the desert.

No wonder my Mom liked Edward. She was like Edward. She couldn't let herself be limited, and neither could he. I didn't want to be my Dad.

Mom and I hugged tightly before I got in my Chevy. "Don't worry, baby," she said. "It'll all work out. He's a nice guy." I didn't ask who she meant.

XXX

_March 21, Saturday_

_I finally left L.A. on La Poderosa. I stayed sober long enough to make the ride, and rode as long as I could for two days. I stopped somewhere in Texas, halfway between New Mexico and Oklahoma as best as I could tell, found a cheap and tawdry hotel, and walked to the closest bar. _

_There was a woman there with long wavy brown hair and a nice ass in tight jeans. After I'd had a few glasses of bourbon, I asked her to come back to my room with me. She did. We wandered slowly down the street, my hand on her waist, and her hand in my jeans pocket. _

_She told me her name several times but I kept calling her Bella, Bella, Bella, and running my fingers through her hair. She had my pants undone and my dick out when she looked up at me to say something and that's when I really saw her. She didn't look anything like Bella. The hair was about the only similarity. _

_This woman had heavily-caked makeup and frown lines framing her harsh red lips. My stomach churned. My dick went soft and my stomach came gurgling up in my throat. Dribbling vomit from my chin I ran to the bathroom, which was difficult with my jeans undone and halfway down my legs. Not-Bella was disgusted. She was screeching that I'd gotten some puke in her hair. I told her to get lost. _

_I'm just glad she didn't call the cops. _

_That was last night. I'm feeling muzzy but sober this morning. I think it's time I found somewhere else to go. South, I think. I want to see the Alamo. I'm feeling like a pilgrimage to a place of noble self-sacrifice might be a good thing._

_March 22, Sunday_

_The Alamo is much smaller than I expected and surrounded by tall buildings. I was expecting something very old-time Western film, with a great expanse of desert all around, but it's plopped in the middle of downtown San Antonio like a theme park. I know who would love this; she'd laugh that loud belly laugh of hers. I miss that laugh._

XXX

I got back to L.A. late on Thursday, which was fine since it meant I wasn't fighting traffic at the end of a long day of driving. I had just enough energy to take a shower before I flopped into bed and fell asleep. As I drifted off I heard thunder, and distantly thought it sounded like a motorcycle.

XXX

_March 24, Tuesday_

_The rains came and I stopped to wait it out and shoot some pool with the local boys in an ice house. It's like a bar, but more homey. You expect all the guys to be named Bubba or Tex or something macho. The walls have all these velvet matador paintings, and the linoleum floor is the most bizarre shade of lime green. I don't fit in, but the guys warmed up after a bit and I was buying the rounds of Lone Star beer so no one complained._

_This tall rangy man, who looked like he could be anywhere between forty and five hundred, walked in and everyone hushed before leaping up to greet him. He had short black hair, and was wiry and as tall as me, though he walked with a pronounced limp. He was dressed like all the other men: wrangler jeans and cowboy boots, tooled leather belt with a huge silver buckle, a plaid shirt with pearl snaps, and a cowboy hat. Somehow it looked different on him - less like a statement and more like an extension of who he was. _

_After talking a bit, he asked me what I was doing down in the cattle lands, and I told him I was looking for something to do. He looked me over and invited me back to his ranch to do a few odd jobs for a week or so. _

_So now I'm a worker/guest at the ranch of Bill Black. His youngest son, Jake, is only sixteen and in high school though he is as big as a house. His older son, Sam, has gone off to college. I'm a little worried about what tomorrow will bring. Bill said he's got some work for me to do here that he can't handle now that his knee is "all bunged up". _

_I'm looking forward to this: working at a real job, the kind of job that means something. The kind of people who work and live off the earth seem to be more in touch somehow. This is the place that myths are made of, and this is the kind of life that makes stories. Meaning surrounds me here._

_March 27, Friday_

_After two days of working on the ranch I'm beginning to think Mr. Black hired me on for entertainment. They've worked me to the bone, and while I'm huffing and puffing and rubbing my aching muscles, the two of them are ready for more. _

_The first day Bill woke me up at six AM, and I found breakfast already cooked and waiting for me. Jake fed the chickens and horses before heading off to school, and Bill and I fixed a broken section of fence. Digging fence posts is back-breaking work, but fortunately I only had to dig two new holes, and Bill and I nailed the new barbed wire in place. It looks flimsy to me, but Bill claims that unless his twenty-five-hundred pound bull leans against it again, it will hold._

_Then we headed down to check on the herd. Bill has about two hundred beef cattle roaming on five hundred acres of scrubby, slightly rolling land. The cattle are a hodgepodge of colors, but most are gray or a tawny buff, like deer. Bill calls them Brangus. He calls them a lot of things that I really don't get, but I nod and smile like it makes sense. I don't think he's fooled._

_Bill gave me a bucket of some kind of cow kibble, called "cubes," and told me to shake the bucket. As soon as I did, the beasts came running, lumbering along through the grass. I was the proverbial kid with a pork chop around my neck to get the dog to play with me. I dumped the cubes on the ground and ran back to the truck. Bill thought that was funny._

_He laughed all the way into town, where we picked up feed for the horses. Nothing was in a bag smaller than a hundred pounds, and Bill watched while I loaded the truck with nearly a ton of supplies. Then he watched while I unloaded everything into the barn at his ranch. _

_Then it was time for lunch. After lunch was a short siesta, and then we went back out to work. A cow had delivered a calf and Bill wanted to make sure it was all right. Then we worked on the older of his two tractors. _

_Today we saddled up two of the horses and herded the cattle into the pens by the barn. I asked Bill why we didn't just leave a trail of cubes. He told me I'm funny. For a city-boy._

_He told me to rest up tonight because tomorrow will be rough. We'll be "working" the cattle, which apparently is Texan for "we'll be conducting some new variety of city-boy torture". It's a test. I think they're trying to see how much I can take before I crack and run screaming. I wonder myself. _

XXX

I spent all day Friday painting at the studio. There were only a few people in the building during Spring Break. I found a mirror in the life classroom and propped it up on my little studio table where I could see myself.

I hated painting self-portraits. They always came out awkward and self-conscious. I'd be torn between truth and the fantasy of how I wanted to look. I was better at painting how I felt about my subjects than rendering them realistically, but I wasn't sure I liked what I felt about myself.

However, now I had a little more sense of how I looked from the outside. I painted myself as Lady Macbeth, defiant and haunted, with bloody shadows dripping around my face. But as I painted my face, I found something I hadn't expected.

I looked sad.

I quit early and went home to help Alice with dinner.

I had a couple of letters waiting for me - a thin one and a thick one. The thin one was from the scholarship committee. They regretted to inform me, blah blah blah. I didn't get the scholarship.

The thick letter was from Penland. If all went well, I would be spending my summer in North Carolina, assisting the painting faculty and living in a cottage in the woods. I sat on the back doorstep, smoking a cigarette and letting the tears flow down my face. I couldn't have said if they were for joy or not.

XXX

_March 29, Sunday_

_Jake had a date this evening, so Bill and I sat on the long open porch and drank a couple of cans of Lone Star (the worst beer ever, I think, but I'm getting strangely attached to it) and watched the sun set. I think the darkness of night encourages the telling of darker stories, and the revelations of truth._

_We talked about a lot of things, and eventually Bill told me about his wife. I'd assumed they were divorced, but he told me she had died in a car accident three years ago. He said it's not the same running the ranch without her, but he manages. _

_And somehow the conversation came around to me and my relationships and I found myself telling Bill all about the women in my life – Tanya and Bella. I told him everything. It just tumbled out of me, vomited out like a sickness being purged. When I was done the silence fell back around us with the growing darkness. _

_Then he asked what I was doing here, and I said, "Working, learning, experiencing…"_

"_And you couldn't do that back home with one of those girls?" Bill asked. I didn't answer and he went on to tell me that I needed to stop running away, and grow up and be a man. He told me I needed to deal with the woman who had my heart - to tell her how I feel. _

_Even after he'd gone to bed I sat on the porch considering that. I know he's right, but I don't know what to do about it._

XXX

"I can't believe you're making Gefilte Fish. What the fuck is a Gefilte anyway? Have they been fished to extinction in the wild?"

Alice whipped around, grabbing the jar from my hands before I could read the label.

"If you're not going to be helpful, Bella, you can at least stop interfering!" Alice snapped. I put up my hands in surrender.

"You're the one who asked for help. Shall I set the table?"

"No, Jasper's got table setting. You are supposed to be helping with the Kugel."

"Right. What is a Kugel?"

Alice pointed at the pot of boiling noodles and before long I became part of her cooking whirlwind. Alice was just removing the Kugel from the oven when the doorbell rang.

First to arrive were Alice's fashion design friend, Charlotte, and her boyfriend, Peter. Charlotte was a nice Jewish girl from New York who had moved to L.A. to follow her high-school boyfriend. Peter was in the pre-law program, and looked like a young lawyer.

Quil arrived right behind them, a bright smile on his face. He gave me a warm kiss and told me how much he'd missed me. I returned the kiss, but not the sentiment.

The Kugel was … interesting. I wasn't sure I liked the combination of pineapple, cheese, and egg noodles, but I ate my serving anyway. Quil seemed to like it - he snarfed down two helpings. I managed to get out of eating any of the fish patties Alice claimed was Jewish cuisine, but the rest of dinner was delicious. We drank too much wine (which Alice claimed was a requirement of Passover) and talked and laughed.

After dinner, Quil suggested that he'd like to stay and help clean up, but I ran him off.

"Would you like to come to dinner on Easter?" Quil asked. "You don't have to bring anything and I think Rachel's bringing Seth." The thought of going as Quil's date and meeting his parents, grandparents, everyone… I couldn't do it.

"Sorry, I've got a lot of work to do this weekend," I told him, avoiding any promises of future dates. We hugged in a friendly way, though I noticed his hands stayed on my hips a little longer than they had to.

After the door closed behind him, I turned to find Jasper there, watching me.

"Are you going to tell him?" he asked.

"Tell him what?"

Jasper shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "I'm staying out of it. I'm Switzerland." And then he tottered off to bed.

XXX

_March 31, Tuesday_

_I sent my short story to Dr. Masen. I'm a little nervous about what he will say. I think my time on the Black Ranch changed the story a little, but that's good._

_The ranch work is exhausting. It's dirty, it's hard, and it's not romantic the way I expected it to be. The Blacks do all right, but there are plenty of families in this area who don't. Poverty is not pretty, no matter where it is._

_I called Emmett on Sunday night, and heard back from him today. He gave me all kinds of grief over Bella, and I had to promise to behave myself, but I managed to wheedle the information I needed out of him._

_Bella has an opening on Saturday night, the one she had called me about. I'm going to be there._

XXX

I got up early on Saturday. After adding my cereal bowl to the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, I headed to the studio, fighting through the tedious rain. Edward's words were haunting me, following me.

_I want a self-portrait._

Of all the stupid-ass things for him to ask for. Even unfinished, my Lady Mac-Bella painting was freaking me out a little, so I took it off the easel and turned it to the wall. I put a fresh board on the easel and glared at myself in the mirror.

I made a few angry marks to sketch out my form: the rectangle of my shoulders, the curve of my neck, the oval of my skull and triangle of my chin. I painted dark colors swirling and dripping around me, but my figure remained rigid-looking. I went with it, and the chaos around my form exploded with color, burgundy Mother-in-Law's tongue reaching up from behind me like flames, aloe like exploding fireworks, bristly and reaching.

I painted myself last. In the middle of bloody movement I was white and stark, my hair black as the storm clouds that were hovering over L.A, bringing April showers to the dry city.

I was angry still, but as I painted I found my rage subsiding. Again the eyes came out looking sad. I left them that way, letting it be. Maybe I really was sad.

XXX

_April 11, Saturday_

_Back on the Black Ranch. _

_Seeing Bella was a bust, and just made me feel hopeless. She was angry and hurt and I can't blame her. I felt like an ass for the way I left things with her. I want to be her friend again, to sit in the park with her, to ride La Poderosa with her holding on behind me. I don't think that will happen again. She hates me._

_Feeling sad and lonely, I went up to Santa Barbara for a day. It wasn't such a great idea. Tanya is doing well. Her mother is improving and that lifts her spirits. It was good to see Tanya, but I couldn't get away fast enough. In the end I was too much of a coward to tell her what needed to be said._

_It took me four days of aimless riding to get back here. Once back, I didn't say anything to Bill about my trip. He didn't ask. _

_We're planting now - twenty acres for hay, fifteen for milo, and an acre of watermelons. A few calves were born while I was gone, and it's amazing to see them running about, their tails thrown over their backs, playing in the Bluebonnets and Indian Paintbrush. _

_I don't know I've ever been somewhere so idyllic, so beautiful._

_It still doesn't take my mind off what I left behind in California._

XXX

**Thank you to Irritable Grizzzly who betaed. MrsDazzled is on vacation, but she'll be back on duty next time. Thank you to all my online and RL friends (you know who you are). **

**I love hearing what readers think, so please review.**


	23. 23 Hopper

**SM owns Twilight, this story is mine. I lived it, I keep it. **

**I realize some readers were worried I wouldn't complete ASC, but never fear. I'm slow but steady. **

**Edward Hopper's painting Night Hawks, of a late night diner in NYC, was the inspiring image for this chapter. It's been reproduced countless times, and referenced endlessly, including on The Simpsons tv program. **

XXX

ASC 23

Hopper

_April 14, Tuesday_

_The farm work gets easier, I find. It's relaxing mentally, in a strange way. A bit like meditating. I sink into the work, forgetting everything except the next task: the next cow, the next feed sack, the next furrow. Nothing matters but the work and that it gets done. Once in awhile I find myself stopping and noticing the colors of the bluebonnets, or the bend of a tree, and I wonder what she would think. If she would think it's beautiful or ugly or beneath her notice. _

_I have strange dreams where I'm in my parents' house but when I open the door to their bedroom there are people I don't know in the bed, and I ask them what they're doing in my house, but they don't answer me. I wake up in a panic. _

_You asked me what I want. What I want is to establish myself; to accomplish something. I look at my life and I don't see anything that is permanent; anything that extends life beyond myself. What do I want? I want to write the Great American Novel: a story that serves as a shout in the wilderness that "I was here!" For now I'd just be happy getting a story published and receiving some kind of recognition. I can't let myself wallow in sentimentality until I've gained something. Anything more is a luxury._

XXX

I didn't know what to think about Edward's blog. I hadn't called him, but only because I didn't know what to say. My passion for him had burned so hot just a few weeks earlier, but now I just felt ... sore and tired.

A part of me had hoped he would make a wild declaration that he loved me, and had always loved me, but instead all I got was more of his convoluted thoughts. I understood his drive to make something of his life and why that meant he couldn't let himself become emotionally involved. I had been much the same way just a few short months ago. Somehow, meeting Edward had changed my priorities. He had changed me. Not just for love, but also in my art, my relationships with other people, and how I saw myself. I wanted that for him as well, but I couldn't even imagine what needed to happen for him to make that shift in perspective.

I knew I couldn't keep my life waiting in the hope he'd come around. Reading his blog wasn't helping.

I dug out a picture album from my childhood and used a photo taken of myself when I was ten, with freckles and braids, and brought it to my studio. Using the photo. I painted myself holding a daisy. The center of the flower became a clock face with no hands. It's petals were scraps of paper torn away from the flower with handwritten words. _I love you, I love you not, I love you, I love you not..._

XXX

"So, this is where you've squirreled yourself away," Berty said as he cruised into my studio space one Wednesday afternoon. I didn't look up from mixing my paint.

"I'm not exactly hiding out," I said, pausing to squint into the mirror before laying a line of dark green shadow on the painting. "I mean, I've been right here, in my assigned space."

"Yes, you're here," Berty said as he sat gingerly in my armchair as though it might contain rats, "but not in my class. Have you been ditching all of them?"

"No," I said. He looked around at the paintings leaning against the wall. Five were settled there, plus the one on the easel. All self-portraits, and all done in the past two weeks.

"I should feel offended," Berty said with an air of distraction. "Any particular reason for the avoidance?"

I shrugged. "I've just been busy with these new paintings. I'll be back next week."

"Good. I'd hate to have to drop you a grade just because you're ditching. One more absence and you won't get better than a B no matter how well you do in class," he said, giving me a sharp look. "Understood?"

"Understood," I said seriously.

He nodded. Appeased, he stood and stepped forward to examine the paintings more closely.

"I saw your show at AV Gallery," he said casually. "It's an excellent exhibit. You captured something ineffably touching about your model, but also about yourself."

I paused, my brush raised. "About myself?"

He was examining the Lady Mac-Bella painting. I'd finally gotten it to a point where I felt it was done, though some parts were just roughed in. It seemed fitting, being unfinished. I was feeling like a work in progress myself. Berty was staring at it as he stroked his upper lip in concentration. He didn't look away from the paintings as he spoke.

"You're finding your heart. You've always been technically proficient, Bella, but it's lovely to see you discovering your passion. It leaves the viewer wanting more. Desire …

"Desire," he continued, "isn't something that's in the subject: it's in the viewer: in the artist's eye. Your work is now all about desire. Even these self-portraits are full of indescribable yearning."

I looked at him blankly before I slid my gaze to the paintings.

"What do you desire, Bella?" he asked.

"I don't know," I muttered. I used to know. Everything used to be so simple – art, being an artist, success translated as sales, reviews, catalogs, museum collections – but now... My forehead wrinkled in concentration. Berty turned to me and flashed a sunny smile.

"Think about it. I was going to tell you not to let your gallery show go to your head, but I can see you're not resting on your laurels."

"Might be nice to have some freaking laurels…" I muttered.

Berty's smile turned wry. "Don't think for a moment that it gets easier. If you're not pushing yourself, you're not growing. You can't go through life avoiding the hard stuff. Sometimes you have to just bull through it."

"I know that," I snorted. He just nodded and gave me a tight smile. I wondered if I had offended him, but he was already waving and walking away.

"Hey, Professor Berty?" I called, stopping him before he could leave. He quirked an eyebrow and I took a breath. "Have you been in my space lately? Other than today?"

"No, why?"

"Oh. It just looked like some of my paintings had been moved. I thought maybe you'd been looking at them."

He shook his head. "If I'd been here I wouldn't have touched anything. See you tomorrow." Turning on his heel, he said, "Carry on!" and swept out of my space. I was left staring at my painting on the easel.

Unfinished business.

I put my brush in water to keep it from drying into a useless stick and dug my cell phone out of my bag.

I scrolled through numbers until I found the one I was looking for. I dialed and it rang twice before he answered. Knowing what was coming, just the sound of his voice was enough to make me queasy.

"Quil, I have to talk to you. Would you meet me at Thai BBQ this evening?"

XXX

Alice came home just as I was uncorking a bottle of merlot.

"The ghost appears," she said, laughing as she tossed her keys and bag on the dining room table and came into the kitchen. "It's been almost two weeks since I last saw you awake. I was starting to wonder if I needed to find a new roommate."

I poured each of us a glass. "Hm. Don't rent out my room just yet. Give me until the end of May and I'll be clearing out anyway."

"I was just kidding! Wait. You're moving out? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to North Carolina for the summer to Penland Institute for the Arts on an internship."

"Crap." She took her glass distractedly and turned it by the stem.

"You could be happy for me," I said.

"Congratulations. Fucking crap." She followed me out to the backyard and we sat at our little patio table in the growing darkness. The wisteria on James' garage were blooming. It was the end of April, and the days were pleasantly warm, but the night held a chill. The ginger kitten came out of the shrubs and jumped onto Alice's lap. While I was in Phoenix she had started feeding him, and named him Tim Gunn which I thought was more than a little silly. I had been thinking Redward.

"I thought you'd be excited about me moving out. You guys can have some newlywed privacy, and Jasper can have a room to himself," I said as we settled in and sipped our wine.

Alice bit her lip as she stroked Tim's orange fur. "He's graduating in June, and he's not sure what he'll be doing, work-wise. We were thinking we could split the rent three ways and it would be cheaper for all of us."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure we can find another roomie for you."

"I don't want another roommate. I like having you here."

"You just like that I don't say anything about you and Jasper shaking the house with your loud sex gymnastics every night," I teased.

"You can hear us?" Alice squealed, her eyes widening and her hand covering her mouth.

"Geez, Alice! The neighbor's dog can hear it. Of course I can hear you two going at it." I laughed, remembering the Valentine's Party and hearing them from the patio with Edward. Then something else occurred to me. "You know, Jessica may be looking for a place to rent. She told me she let go of her place in Santa Monica when she dropped out of school. She's planning to take a couple of summer classes to catch up. What do you think?"

Alice screwed up her face in mock horror, but it didn't last long when she saw I was serious. "I don't know. Didn't you say she was nuts?"

"I've gotten to know her. She's had some tough breaks, but she's okay."

I polished off the last bit of my wine and poured another glass for myself and topped off Alice's half-full one.

"So you're headed to North Carolina? Aren't you afraid of being kidnapped by a bunch of freaky in-bred hillbillies?" she asked and I nearly choked on my wine.

"Alice, it's an art center, not _I Spit On Your Grave_ or _Deliverance, _or any of those other homicidal maniac slasher films. Yeesh. You're such a city kid it's scary."

"Oh, yeah, right, and you're not?" Alice shot back. "Do you think they have Thai food in North Carolina?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It's not like I'm moving there forever! I think I can manage for a couple of months. I can let go of a few things."

"Probably not even a decent bagel," Alice muttered, then eyed me sharply. "What does Quil say?"

I shook my head. "He's one of the things I'm letting go of. I got together with him earlier and told him ... well, I told him that it's not going to work out."

"Just because you're going to North Carolina for a few months doesn't mean you have to break up with him."

"No, that's not the only reason. I have shit to deal with, and I can't keep Quil dangling while I figure out my crap. He's not a consolation prize, and I'm not being fair. Honestly, the way things have been going recently, he didn't seem all that surprised."

The silence stretched out. Alice was little more than a shadow in the dark when she finally said quietly, "Have you talked to Edward?"

"Nope. I was reading his blog, but … I don't know. I feel like I'm a fucking voyeur, peeking in on him."

"Well, he wanted you to read it, right? You can't be a voyeur if he invited you."

"It doesn't matter. I give up. He's one of the things I'm letting go of." I held my glass up to her in salute and she returned the gesture.

"To letting go of all the crap," I said and we gently clicked glasses. I dipped my finger in my wine and began flicking drops onto the ground, one for each issue in my life, reciting my own personal litany of plagues as I went: "My parents' divorce, the car accident when I was sixteen, asshole art school teachers, the fucking scholarship committee, Lauren the bitch, clingy Mike, jerk-off Paul, Quil, Edward…"

"You're really giving up on Edward, too?" she asked.

"I'm just not going to live waiting for him to show up. I'm resolving to put him out of my mind."

XXX

Putting Edward out of my mind wasn't up to me, as the following days proved.

Friday morning I was packing up some books for storage and found one I didn't recognize tucked into a stack on the floor. It was _Ulysses_ by James Joyce. I flipped it open and found the margins filled with comments. Edward's notes. I recalled him telling me how he read books but rarely kept them. Amazed at finding this relic, I began reading his notes.

Mostly he'd written comments regarding the characters or events, but some notes were obviously just journal entries. One told in humorous detail about our trip to Disneyland. It included things I had forgotten, like how he screamed like a little girl when we rode on Roger Rabbit and I made the car spin around like a top. And things I couldn't have known, like how conscious he was of my legs and arms wrapped around him as we rode his motorcycle. Reading it gave me an ache in my heart and a different ache somewhere a little further south.

I brought the book with me to the studio and began a new painting, using ripped-out pages to collage a background. I spent all Saturday working on it, building up sheer layers of paint. The words, both Joyce's printed text and Edward's handwritten ones, peeked through the painted surface of my face to suggest a faded tattoo. Only the eyes were opaque, staring coolly.

XXX

I got home late and found an unfamiliar blonde girl relaxing on my sofa in a crisp white blouse.

"Hi," she said brightly, and leapt to her feet, smiling as if I was someone she knew and liked. I looked around and confirmed for myself I was in my own home: ratty furniture, my painting of Alice, crappy carpet. Check, check, and check. Nothing explained why there was a strange girl waving her big tits around my house.

"Hi," I answered, dropping my book bag by the door. "Um. Who are you?"

She offered her hand and answered, "I'm Tanya, Jasper's friend from Santa Barbara. You must be Bella. I've heard all about you. Edward said you're an amazing artist. I didn't think he knew anything about art, but he raved about you."

I'd taken her hand out of reflex, but I reeled back under her verbal barrage.

"Oh. You talked to him?" I said weakly. Tanya? She didn't look like the evil blood-sucking bitch I'd imagined from Edward and Emmett's descriptions, but looks could be deceiving.

"I haven't heard from him for awhile, but I saw him a few weeks ago. He came up to Santa Barbara and we hung out. Have you talked to him lately?"

"No, not since spring break. Almost a month. But I was ..." I almost said 'reading his blog', but something made me stop. I shook my head and awkwardly changed course. "I'm working on a painting for him."

"Oh!" Tanya exclaimed. "Edward just raved about your paintings! Is this one of yours?" she asked, pointing at the wall. "I've been admiring it while I was waiting for Jasper to get out of the shower."

"Yeah, it's one I did of Alice last fall, but ... I don't like my old work. My new paintings are better."

"Edward said you painted him! Do you have any around?"

"No, those paintings all went to a gallery. I don't have any ..." I remembered the porno painting hidden in the closet, the one where he was clutching his cock. That one wouldn't do. I was tempted, just to see the look on Tanya's face, but I decided it wasn't a wise decision. It would stay in the closet. Then I remembered the pictures I had on my hard drive. "Wait," I said, and dashed off to my room. I returned with my laptop and Tanya and I settled on the sofa while the computer booted up.

"You have a picture?" Tanya asked, and I was surprised by both the excitement and nervousness in her voice.

"I have lots of pictures," I said. "He modeled for me for over a month, I have over twenty paintings of him."

Tanya's eyes widened. "I .. I had no idea he was ..." She watched as I started a slide show of the file and the images began to cycle, from the earliest to the most recent. Her mouth sagged and she leaned in to look closely at the images. Edward's nude reclining form, his hand, limp and languid. Edward in jeans and a t-shirt in my studio, Edward without a shirt. Edward's face as he read a book, Edward nude and staring defiantly out at the viewer. Edward as a crouching angel, nude with wings of map pages.

It was odd to look at the paintings with a new set of eyes. I tried to imagine what she saw.

I couldn't look at them. I watched her, and she was focused.

"They're wonderful," she blurted at last. I didn't say anything and after a long breath she looked at me. "But it's not Edward. He looks wild, like he's about to spring right out of the picture. He's not like that. Edward's so gentle."

"No he isn't," I said, instantly contradicting her before I could rein in my tongue. "I'm sorry, I mean ... I don't know him as well as you do, but he never seemed gentle to me. He's got something inside him that won't be tamed, you know?"

Tanya shook her head, confusion written all over her sweet face.

"He'd never hurt a fly. He's always so decent and good, he's not ... like that," she said, pointing to the painting that was on the screen of a shirtless Edward staring intensely at the viewer. "You've made him look angry. Edward isn't angry. If you think that, you don't know him. He's an amazing person."

"Yes, he is," I said quietly.

"You're in love with him," she stated. I just shrugged and nodded but I could feel tears tickling the backs of my eyes. "Everyone falls in love with Edward. It's unavoidable. He ..." she glanced at the nude painting that had just appeared on the screen. "He wasn't just your model, was he?"

"No."

"He'll be back," she said, and her quiet confidence startled me. She was giving me the willies.

I opened my mouth to say something to that effect when Jasper appeared shirtless, his hair still wet. He smiled at us sitting together on the sofa.

"Hey, Bella, I see you met Tanya. I knew you two would get along," he said.

"Bella was just showing me some of her paintings," she told him, then turned to me. "Jasper and I are going to some little burger place he was telling me about, do you want to join us?"

"That's a great idea. We're headed to apple Pan, Bella. Hickory burger," he said temptingly. I shook my head.

"Actually, I'm totally wiped out. Another time maybe." I suddenly realized Alice wasn't home. "Are you just waiting on Alice?"

"She has a group project meeting tonight and won't get home until late," Jasper informed me.

"She knows you're going out with Tanya?"

"Of course she knows," Jasper scoffed. "She said she was sorry she wouldn't get to see Tanya until next weekend when we head up to Santa Barbara." Then he shook his finger teasingly at me. "No wild parties while we're gone, young lady."

I laughed. "Be good, kids; don't stay out all night," I said as I retreated to my room.

As I lay in bed, I thought about Tanya. I wanted to hate her, but I couldn't. She was beautiful and perfect, that was undeniable. I certainly felt like an ugly duckling beside her. She had a sweet way about her, and yet she seemed … pitiful. She hadn't given up on Edward, but I felt she really didn't truly understand him. He would always be a mystery to her.

I could almost see a replay my parents' lives if Edward chose Tanya or someone like her. A life stifled, his creativity stunted. Ending in divorce, banality, and bitterness.

Yet I mostly felt sorry for Tanya. She had no idea that she had been trying to domesticate lightning.

XXX

I was back in Berty's class on Tuesday. Lauren made a snide comment about my reappearance, but I just smiled and she gave up in obvious confusion. Our model was a pretty blonde woman whose patrician features reminded me a little of Tanya's.

I fell into the zone quickly, working right through the break. At the end of class we trotted our paintings out to the hallway and looked everything over for critique. Seth's painting was perfect, as usual. The figure seemed to just spring right off the canvas. My painting was loose, using the dripping shadows I'd started using when painting Edward. The girl's figure floated as if it were as substantial as smoke.

I moved down the hall, looking at paintings. Mike was shadowing me, but I ignored him. He was just being a creeper. The crit started with Lauren's painting, which was surprisingly good. Before anyone else could say anything I spoke up.

"I really like the use of color and that subtle contour line around the figure. The flesh tones are really rich and varied. Your shadows are rich, really solid. The proportions are spot-on and the composition works well. It's good."

There was silence. Lauren gaped at me. I looked around and saw Seth and the other students, along with Berty, staring silently at me. Then Berty turned back to the painting and told Lauren she did a good job, pointing out her strong use of complementary colors to create richer shadows. I shrunk down beside Seth. Mike was giving me an intense look that made my skin crawl.

"Are you feeling all right?" Seth whispered to me.

"Yeah, why?" I answered.

"Well, you just complimented Lauren. Did you realize it was hers?"

"Yeah, I realized it was hers. Can't I say something nice about Lauren's painting?" I groused.

Seth shrugged and gave me an odd look. "I just wondered if you realized what you were doing. You haven't had anything nice to say to her since Edward showed up."

I scrunched down on the hard floor and didn't say anything the rest of the crit, even when Berty complimented me on my new, "more confident" style.

XXX

I went over to AV Gallery on Friday. It was May Day, and the new show was going up. When we first contracted for the show, Alec had told me to pick up my paintings on this date, since he would only be able to store one or two in his back room.

When I walked in I was surprised by how dramatically different the gallery looked since my last visit, on opening night. The walls were bare, and a guy in jeans and a baseball cap was spackling the walls. My paintings were nearly all bubble-wrapped and taped into bundles, leaning against the large desk.

Jane was nowhere in sight and Alec was on the phone, so I wandered over to the stacks of paintings. There were three piles, I realized: one large stack had names scrawled on the bubble-wrap, and I recognized Marcus' name on the outermost one. The second stack was somewhat smaller and each had a shipping label affixed with a bit of tape. The last pile only had two unwrapped paintings.

Curious, I leaned closer looked through the shipping stack to see where the paintings were headed. San Francisco, La Jolla, and Santa Barbara. That one caught my attention, and I leaned closer. E. Cullen, on Marina Drive, Santa Barbara.

"Bella!" Alec said as he hung up the phone just as I was processing the shipping tag information.

"Hi! Um, I'm here to pick up the unsold paintings," I stumbled over the words a bit, my brain and mouth on totally different tracks.

"Oh, I should have called you and told you not to bother," Alec said cheerfully. "You only had three unsold paintings, and I'd like to keep them here for the year. I'll put them in the back room, and, you know, show them to clients."

This wasn't processing either. I just blinked a couple of times and finally said "Everything sold?"

"Almost. I sold nineteen of the twenty-two paintings. They're all ready to go. Jane will be delivering these tomorrow."

I looked down at the paintings.

"Did you sell – did Edward Cullen buy one of my paintings?"

Alec looked startled and wary. "How did you ...?" he asked, and I pointed. He spread his hands and nodded sheepishly. "Okay. He bought_ Edward 2_ and asked me not to tell you. Swore me to secrecy, actually. I guess that's moot now."

"Why did he do that?"

"He said he thought you deserved the money for the painting."

"But you said it sold before he even got here!" I exclaimed, frustrated and confused.

He shrugged and came around the desk. As he passed me to deal with a delivery man whose van was double-parked out front, he handed me an envelope. I followed him.

"He came by that afternoon, before the opening. Jane was here, and she'd accidentally put it on the sale list. I was just getting back when he was signing the credit card slip. He was really stubborn about the whole thing." He opened the door and ushered me out before waving the delivery man in.

"That's your check for the show. Give me a call next week and we'll schedule you for next year!" He waved and turned his back.

I just stood on the sunny sidewalk with an envelope wondering what the hell was going on.

XXX

My mind still in a tangle with the news that Edward had bought the painting, I headed back to the studio where I flopped into my armchair and stared at my self-portraits.

Now I understood why Edward hadn't seemed bothered when he got the news of "his" painting being sold. All his talk of not being able to take a painting on his motorcycle, and he had already planned to send it to Santa Barbara.

Curious, I tore open the envelope Alec had given me and looked over the invoice for nineteen paintings and a check for my share, which was fifty-percent of the gross sales. It was enough that I wouldn't have to worry about losing out on the scholarship. I would be set financially for the rest of the year. Edward had been instrumental in making that happen, from being my model, to buying this painting.

Was this just a souvenir for him? Was his buying the painting nothing more than buying a little piece of me? Would it be nothing more than a token of his wild days of youth, or would it mean something more to him?

I decided it made no difference. He's paid for it and it was his. It didn't change that I felt a debt to him for modeling. Whether he felt I owed him anything wasn't an issue: I didn't want to feel obligated.

After a long while I took out my phone and shot a picture of the latest self-portrait, the one with the collaged pages of _Ulysses_ as an under-painting. It wasn't as sad as the earlier ones, though there was still some melancholy. Instead the girl in the painting – I couldn't think of it as me, though she clearly had my face – seemed to be ambivalent as she gazed back at me. Neither welcoming nor angry, she seemed … patient. Before I could change my mind, I sent it to Edward, with a brief message.

_Is this what you want?_

With shaking hands I stashed my phone in my bag and headed home.

XXX

I was awakened by my chirping phone from a strange dream about being really small and sitting on a shelf. I fumbled the phone out of my book bag and looked at the display.

Edward.

"Hello?" I croaked.

"Bella? Are you awake?" he asked. His voice was exactly as I remembered, deep and low, and it seemed to send a vibration through my whole body.

"I am now. Are you alright?" My brain was starting to function, though slowly.

"I'm fine, Bella. I just got in -"

"You just got in? What the hell time is it in Texas?" I couldn't believe he was calling me in the middle of the night to talk about the painting. I lay back in bed, closing my eyes. In the darkness of my room, his voice in my ear, I could almost pretend he was right there. I was both agitated and soothed.

_Over him_, I reminded myself. _I'm over him. He's just another friend, an ex-guy. Nothing there._

"It's 4 AM. I'm not in Texas anymore, I'm in New Orleans. Look, I got your text and I wanted to tell you … the painting's incredible. Is it for sale?"

"No, it isn't," I said.

"Oh, I thought..." He sounded clearly disappointed.

"It's yours. I won't take any money for it. You earned it."

"Bella, thank you. It's really great. I can't believe … Here, let me give you an address, and I'll pay the shipping. Do you have a pen?"

"Is it the address on Marina Drive in Santa Barbara?" I asked. "I can just get it from the gallery."

There was a long pause, and I began to worry he was angry, but then I heard him sigh.

"You found out," he chuckled darkly. "I should have known."

"But why, Edward? You didn't need to buy it. I would have given it to you."

"I couldn't risk it, especially after all the things I said. I wouldn't have blamed you if you had. I really wanted the painting to remind me ..." he said. A 'souvenir'. Just as I thought.

"Is Marina Drive where …who lives on Marina Drive?" I whispered the question, dreading the answer, praying it wasn't Tanya's address.

"It's my parent's house," he said, and I sighed in relief. He heard me. "What is it?" I considered keepin my mouth shut, but in the dark I felt it was easier to tell him what I was really thinking.

"I met your … I met Tanya last week."

Again there was a long silence.

"Oh? What did you think?" he croaked.

"She's nice," I said, casually, "But I don't get her."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't get how you could be with her for so long and yet she just doesn't seem to know you at all. Maybe I'm wrong and I'm the one who doesn't know you. She's sweet and all, but I don't think we're going to start an ex - an 'ex-whatever the hell we are' club." I was starting to rant. I took a deep breath.

"Bella, you're not my _ex_- anything."

"No, I guess I'd have had to be a 'something' to be an 'ex-something'."

"You're not an ex," he muttered awkwardly. I could picture him scrubbing his head in agitation. I sat up.

"Then what am I, Edward?" I asked.

"I don't have words for what you are, but you're not a past-tense. You're my... muse?" It came out like a question more than a statement. "I don't know, Bella. I just saw the picture you sent and I had to call."

"Is the painting the only reason you called me in the middle of the night?"

"Not really. I miss you. I just wanted to talk to you, Bella," he said softly. My breath caught for a moment and my heart thumped hard in my throat. _Not over him_, I realized and tried to fight it down.

"You're talking to me," I whispered.

"Yes," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. There was a long silence then I could hear his soft breathing and rustling on the other end of the line. I didn't know what to say. I was just glad to have him on the phone, and to have that connection from across the miles. Finally I laughed at the absurdity of us, on the phone, and not speaking.

"So," I said, relaxing into the pillow and getting comfortable, "tell me what the hell you're doing in New Orleans…"

XXX

**A huge heartfelt thank you to Irritable Grizzzly and MrsDazzled, my wonder betas. Extra thanks to Twitina and Bookishqua for reading, offering input, and generally talking me off the ledge. Thank you to all my online and RL friends (you know who you are). Thank you to Giselle-lx, for intellectual conversation.**

**I love hearing what readers think, so please review.**


	24. 24 Schnabel

**SM owns Twilight, this story is mine. I lived it, I keep it. **

**Julian Schnabel's mixed media paintings, especially "The Patients and the Doctors" was the inspiration for this chapter. Schnabel is a best-known as the director of the film "Basquiat".**

XXX

ASC 24

Schnabel

With the start of May the cooler and wetter season in L.A. had ended and the warmth and sunshine of spring had settled over the city. I lounged in the backyard Saturday afternoon, still in my pajama pants and camisole, smoking a cigarette and unable to contain the smile on my face. The world was lovely today.

My sketchbook lay open in my lap, but I didn't draw. I contemplated my middle-of-the-night conversation with Edward. We'd talked for over three hours, nearly until dawn. Even though I hadn't slept much, I didn't care.

He told me about leaving the ranch in Texas when the work eased off and he started feeling … too settled. He talked about New Orleans, and how he was working as a bar back in the French Quarter three nights a week plus doing construction during the days. The work was backbreaking as well as heartbreaking, trying to rehab houses that had been vacant for so long after the storm and flood.

He wasn't staying in New Orleans much longer, and was planning to head up to Chicago in a few weeks to visit a famous author his college professor had arranged for him to meet. And then … who could say?

He'd been writing. One of his college roommates had started an online magazine and invited Edward to write a weekly column. Like a blog about travel and the "life on the road" lifestyle. I'd laughed when Edward referred to his wandering as a _lifestyle_, and didn't feel the need to explain how it seemed more like he was looking for an escape rather than it being a conscious choice.

When he asked what I was doing, I ducked the question. "Same as before," I'd answered. "Painting, drinking. Sleeping. Repeat."

"Will you stay in L.A. for the summer or are you going back home to Phoenix?" I was impressed he remembered that detail.

"Um, neither, actually I'm headed to North Carolina," I admitted.

"What's there?" he asked.

I told him all about Penland and how excited I was to be working there.

He'd only asked one question: "What does Quil think about you being gone all summer?"

"I don't think it's going to bother him. We're not going out anymore."

There was a long silence and when Edward changed the subject, telling me about how he was looking forward to going up to Chicago, I could tell he was smiling.

When he started yawning I told him I was glad he'd called but that it was late and he should get some sleep. He didn't say goodbye, only "goodnight" in a voice so low and deep it seemed to vibrate through the phone line.

The afternoon shadows were growing long and blue when Alice came out of the back door and did a double-take at the sight of me.

"What the heck - have you been out here all day?" she asked, clearly aghast.

"Not _all_ day. I only got up at two," I said, grinning at her.

"What are you doing home anyway? I thought you'd be at the studio." She came down the steps and stole one of my cigarettes. I lit it and she stood and smoked it, nervously tapping her foot.

"I didn't sleep so well last night, so I just slept in," I shrugged. I didn't feel like sharing about my late-night phone conversation.

"Well, girlfriend, you might want to get dressed. The art crew is going to start arriving in about thirty minutes and I need you to make a last-minute Trader Joe's run."

I frowned. "What? Why?"

"It's Jasper and Emmett's annual _Cinco de Mayo_ party, remember?" I smacked my head. Of course. I'd been so busy avoiding Jasper and Alice I'd completely forgotten about the party. "You forgot, didn't you?" she stated more than asked.

My hand still over my forehead, I nodded.

"Well, get a move-on, Bella, unless you want all the fashion geeks to see your rubber ducky pajama pants."

XXX

By the time I got back with an odd assortment of pico de gallo, a bottle of merlot, and an extra case of Tecate there were nearly a dozen students lounging around the living room. Alice was holding court on the sofa with several design students I didn't know, while Jasper and a couple of sculpture girls were parked on the floor talking animatedly about the latest crit. Mike was sitting with them, and it surprised me to see him there, the only one of the painting department besides myself. He waved at me as I came in and turned back to the sculpture department discussion. Alice had Ricky Martin playing, her idea of ethnic music. _She Bangs._ I wondered if she was trying to get Jasper in the mood.

I carried the food and beer into the kitchen where I found Emmett and Rosalie facing off. Rosalie was saying "-you just don't get it -" but as soon as I stepped into the kitchen she broke off and just glared at him. The air was positively dripping with ice. As quickly as I could I put the bag on the counter, grabbed the corkscrew and merlot, and excused myself to the less arctic atmosphere of the dining room.

Then I realized that I'd neglected to get a wineglass. Rather than braving the kitchen again, I decided to make do with raiding Alice's ceramics class creations from the bookshelf. I picked out a medium-sized mug that was heavier than it looked and filled it with warm merlot. As I turned back, Mike was there, hovering over me.

I jumped a little and sloshed some wine on my wrist.

"Hi, Mike," I said warily, wondering what he was after.

"Hello, Bella," he said, and then he just stood there smiling down at me as I got even more nervous.

"So ... what are you doing here tonight?" I asked.

He shifted his weight a little before replying. "I heard Jasper and Emmett talking about the party, so I told them I'd bring beer. I thought it would be cool to see you again. I heard you'd changed."

Fucking Emmett and Jasper, always suckers for free beer.

"You know, it's really fucking strange: you look like Mike Newton, but I must be hallucinating, because the last time I saw him he grabbed my tit and called me a bitch."

He shrugged. "Good to know some things don't change: you still have a nasty mouth. Is it so bad I wanted to spend time with you? We had good times, the two of us."

"And I told you those days were over, Mike. What makes you think we're going to repeat that whole fucking episode?"

"I'm not suggesting we go down the road again. Can't we just hang out?" he asked. I was tongue-tied.

"I guess."

I jittered for a moment before sidestepping him and heading to the sofa, parking myself at one end, wedged between the arm and Alice so Mike wouldn't be able to sit beside me. He sat on the floor by my feet, which wasn't much better, though seemed strangely fitting as he stared up at me with big blue puppy eyes. I tried to clue in to the conversation with Alice's gang, but Mike wasn't giving up.

"So how do you think you're doing in Berty's class?" he asked.

"Oh, fine," I said, hoping he'd give up and toddle off.

"That's good. I'm just glad it's my last life class. After this, I'm free of all that academic figure bullshit," he said. I recalled Mike preferred abstract painting.

"Yeah, it's time to start getting ready for our senior thesis projects," I commented lightly.

"I can't believe it's so soon! It seems like we were just doing portfolio review. Do you remember..." and suddenly we were talking comfortably in a way we hadn't in months. I'd forgotten he could be nice when he wanted to. When he wasn't hitting on me or calling me a bitch. Or being pathetic. It was nice to feel like I was free of all the relationship bullshit: who wanted whom, who was going to sleep with whom.

I was laughing at Mike's impression of Berty when Rosalie swept through the living room and stormed out the door. Emmett was a few steps behind her. His face was grim, and even after he'd slammed the door behind him, we could hear his raised voice out in the yard.

One of the sculpture girls giggled, and I gave her the death glare. Jasper was up and halfway to the door when it reopened and Emmett was back inside, stomping to the kitchen. Jasper followed him and for a long and awkward minute there was no sound but a Ricky Martin song coming from the speaker. _La Vida Loca_, indeed.

Then Alice turned to a red-haired girl and asked her a question about class as if nothing had happened, and the beer and wine resumed flowing. Before I knew it, the party was back to its previous level of casual inebriation, and my wine glass was refilled again and again.

It was almost a surprise to realize people were leaving. Alice shoved Mike out the door, making sure that in my current state I wouldn't sleep with Clingy Mike again. She gave me a little wink. Alice always watched out for me.

Emmett was picking up beer cans with Jasper and after making a token effort at cleaning - eating the last few chips in the bowl - I slipped out the backdoor to have a smoke. I was drunk but not especially tired.

I hadn't gotten more than two puffs on my cig when a shadow moved and I nearly leapt out of my skin.

"Fuck," I cursed as I jumped to my feet, trying to dislodge the lit cigarette from my lap. The shadow chuckled and I realized who it was. "Mike! You scared the crap out of me! What are you doing sneaking around? I thought you left."

"Alice pushed me out the door before I got to say good night," he said and stepped in close to me. Before my wine-muzzy brain could process what he was doing, he'd enveloped me in his arms. "I've been watching you at the studio lately, Bella, checking out your work. You've been there all hours. I heard you're all on your own, now. Alone." He leaned in closer. I was still stuck on the part about looking at my paintings ... "Lonely." He was so close I could feel his breath fanning across my cheek. "I can help with that -" His lips touched mine, warm and soft and gentle...

And so wrong.

I knew everything I wanted to know about Mike: Where he was from, what he was doing in art school, the noises he made when he came. I knew the taste of him, and he was right, we'd had a good time, once. He'd been fun and energetic.

But I was done with him. When he kissed me, my body just went "meh". He was a stalkerish ex-boyfriend, and I wasn't going there.

Putting my hand on his chest, I shoved him away, and we stumbled apart.

"What's the matter, Bella? I know you're not getting any. Did you finally get interested in muff-diving?"

I wobbled, and I felt like the words spilling out of me were coming from a long way away.

"You're a real asshole, Mike. So you heard I'm solo and you thought you'd see if there was a vacancy sign on my ass? Charming. Just because I'm not fucking anyone doesn't mean I'm going to fuck you."

"Jessica was wrong, you're still a bitch," he muttered.

"Or maybe Jessica's right and it's just that you're still an asshole. Get out of here, Mike, before I get Emmett and Jasper to kick your scrawny ass all the way down Washington Boulevard."

I stomped up the concrete steps and had the back door open when Mike asked, "Can we just talk?"

I paused. "What's the point, Mike? I'm not going to fuck you, and I'm all talked out for the night. Go home and pull your pud."

I turned back to the door and Jasper was there, pushing past me to stand in front of Mike and glare at him.

"Sorry, man, I don't think this is a good night for you," he said quietly. I fled into the house, grateful to have a man in the house, even if it was partly his fault Mike had shown up in the first place.

XXX

The next weeks passed in a blur. I spent my days painting and working madly to get my class projects done so I could paint all weekend. As the month went by, my bedroom became barer, and boxes got moved into the garage where Alice was letting me stash my stuff until the end of summer. Jessica would be moving in at the end of May, right after classes ended, and I was headed to Phoenix for a week before flying to North Carolina. My mom didn't think the old truck was up to a cross-country journey, and I couldn't find it in me to argue.

About once a week, without any kind of warning, Edward would call, always late at night. When I asked why, he said he didn't have time during the day. It wasn't quite what I meant, but I didn't pursue it.

We talked about nothing particular, always skirting the important issues. I didn't repeat my professions of love.

With just five days before classes ended, he said he hadn't left for Chicago yet, but was considering coming back to L.A. for Emmett's graduation.

"Well," I said coolly, "you should. If you need a place to crash you can always stay here." I'd said the words without thinking. Even as they were coming out of my mouth, it I felt forward.

There was a pause before he responded. "Thank you, Bella. I appreciate it."

We talked about New Orleans. I laughed at his stories of the heat and humidity and was jealous when he told me about going to JazzFest and seeing Band of Horses and Kings of Leon and Tony Bennett all while eating Crawfish Etoufee and drinking Abita beer. He told me about seeing a rat the size of a small dog trotting down a street in the French Quarter.

"I don't believe it," I scoffed.

"It's true!" he laughed. "It had a little saddle for a cat to ride on its back."

I had a smile on my face for a whole day afterwards, thinking about his crazy stories.

XXX

The morning of graduation, Alice was rushing around the house in a panic, her high heels clicking on the wood floors as she sped up and back trying to get everything together. Jasper's parents were hovering in the living room, and her parents were expected any moment.

"Hey, cool it, munchkin," I crabbed as she swept into the bathroom for at least the twentieth time, disturbing my own preparations. "You'd think it was _your_ graduation, not your husband's."

"Just don't say the word _husband_ in front of his parents!" she hissed and sped out again.

"Aw, for fucks sake," I muttered. "Just get it out in the open already."

I was nervous enough, trying to look as decent as I could. Though Edward hadn't promised to show up, I still held out hope, so I carefully made up my face with some mascara and raspberry-colored lip gloss. The sundress I wore to Alice and Jasper's wedding seemed looser than it had just two months earlier, which was s surprise. I hadn't noticed that I was losing weight, but I hadn't been home much to enjoy Alice's cooking.

June gloom had turned up early, and the sky was an opaque shade of gray as we sat on the lawn and watched the SOFA graduation. Alice was so excited she didn't notice me looking around. After the ceremony I walked past where Jasper, Alice, and their families were congregated, and stalked over to Emmett, who was standing with a man every bit as big as he was. I figured it had to be his father.

"Hey, Emmett, congratulations. Is, um..." I looked around. "Where is Rosalie?"

"She's not coming. We broke up," he said quietly.

"Oh. Sorry?" I said, embarrassed. I hadn't talked to him since the _Cinco de Mayo_ party, but I should have realized...

"Thanks, Bells." Emmett sighed, a deep sound that seemed to come from deep inside him. I'd never seen him so sad. Without even thinking I reached out and wrapped my arms around his thick torso. He hugged me back, and I felt completely wrapped up in him. Then I peeked over his tree-trunk arms and saw his dad looking away awkwardly and I stepped back.

"Is Edward here?"

Emmett looked confused and shook his head. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"The last time I talked to him he said he might be coming for your graduation, I just thought maybe -"

His father snorted. "He doesn't take any responsibilities seriously, that one," he muttered. I stared, feeling my heart drop.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Dad ..." Emmett said warningly.

Ignoring me, he looked at his son and said, "You know as well as I do that Tanya's parents had the whole wedding planned, and then _that boy_ just hops on his Harley and rides off to break hearts all over the country. Tells her that the engagement is off. Broke her mother's heart. She was already having a rough time, what with the cancer and all, and then this."

My mouth was hanging open and Emmett put his hand on my shoulder, whether to comfort me or hold me back I couldn't be sure. I felt a mad urge to correct his father and tell him that Edward would never ride a Harley...

"Dad," Emmett repeated, "you always told me 'it takes two to tango'. Tanya didn't tell her family the whole story."

"I know what Tanya's parents told me," his father interrupted, still not looking at me. "That boy made promises to their daughter and she gave up years to him. Then he just throws her away. His parents are ashamed of him, turning down law school and dumping his fiancée to go gallivanting across the country pretending to be some Hell's Angel. Probably off with some floozy right now. Do you think anyone in Hope Ranch doesn't know about it?" His tone was heavy with disgust and scorn.

I couldn't take any more. I twisted out of Emmett's grip and walked slowly and firmly back to the parking lot. I texted Alice that she should get a ride with Jasper and drove myself home.

It wasn't that I didn't know about Tanya, or that I hadn't suspected that Edward hadn't really broken up with her, but to hear myself referred to as 'some floozy', the suggestion that I was one of a string of women across the country really brought it home. I was hurt, confused, and angry.

That night I turned off my phone. I didn't want to hear from him. It was almost worse when I turned it on in the morning and there was only one message, from Emmett. He apologized for his dad and telling me not to listen to his old man's bullshit. I didn't call him back. There were no other messages.

I tossed my summer bags and painting kit in the bed of my old pickup truck and drove to Phoenix. As I steered the Chevy up the ramp onto the Santa Monica Freeway, I felt I was closing the book on the whole year, on the whole episode. It would be a fresh start.

XXX

**I realize some readers were worried I wouldn't complete ASC, but never fear. I'm slow but steady. There will be a total of 26 chapters plus an epilogue, and my goal is to have this story complete by New Years. I have grand ambitions.**

**Thanks to IrritableGrizzzly and MrsDazzled for being my wonderful and oh-so-patient beta readers. Thanks and love to all my fandom friends, to everyone following me on Twitter (and tolerating my banal ramblings), and most especially for everyone reading and reviewing this story. I sincerely feel I have the best readers in the fandom. **

**Happy Thanksgiving Day to my U.S. readers! And to those of you elsewhere, I send you a big slice of virtual pumpkin pie.**


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